


A Sword Refracts

by IntelligentAirhead



Series: A Sword Refracts Universe [1]
Category: Persona 4
Genre: Agender Seta Souji, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Asexual Rise, Autistic Souji Naoto and Yukiko, Bisexual Yosuke, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Naoto, Guard Chie, Heir apparent Naoto, Knight Souji, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other, Parent Death, Princess Yukiko, Trans Girl Chie, Trans Guy Yosuke, Traveling bard Rise, Werewolf Yosuke, neurodivergent characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntelligentAirhead/pseuds/IntelligentAirhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quests are never as straightforward as one might expect at the start of their journey. It's too bad that Souji Seta only discovers this well after they've accepted the task. If they had known that they would face frustratingly unhelpful dreams, an artistically challenged werewolf, and manifestations of their friends' darkest thoughts, they might have packed more rations.</p><p>(Inspired by Tarargh's Fantasy AU Concept Art)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The air always smelled so much better away from the city, Souji thought. The damp earthy smell that they caught every time the wind shifted was a definite improvement from the deluge of smells that assailed them in the heart of Fenneca; however, the vast difference never quite struck them until they spotted evidence of civilization without being overcome by the festering stench of sun-warmed urine. That experience, if nothing else, was reason enough to visit their estranged uncle, even if he lived far from the city Souji Seta called home.

The view was another thing that made it all worth it. Clambering down endless trails was a trial, but the vantage point afforded to each place they found to rest displayed the Inaba valley in all of its greenery. That view was often the only motivation Souji had for not immediately giving up the adventure for a loss. They could hardly believe their journey was almost at an end, looking at it now.

Finally, Souji shook themself out of their reverie and tugged at Izanagi’s reins. “Come on, we’re almost there.” It was almost nightfall, after all, and they had already traversed too many unfamiliar pathways in the dark. Izanagi could do it again, Souji had no doubt, but it would be pointless this close to the end of their journey. They had finally arrived at Inaba.

What memories Souji had of the town depicted it as a secret meeting of houses and shops, nestled together so that they could whisper without being overheard.  The large, rolling hills hid it from sight, and the mountains to the east served to only isolate it further. From what Souji’s mother had told them, the locals liked it best that way.

After spending what seemed like ages following the winding path described to them, Souji was inclined to believe the locals just didn’t see the point in putting in all the effort it took to make it to another town.

Souji’s suspicions seemed to be confirmed by the way they were greeted. The people of Inaba that were still outside certainly didn’t seem distressed by Souji’s appearance. If anything, they seemed relieved. One even asked if Souji needed a place for their horse to rest.

Souji’s lips quirked up, showing the barest hint of a smile. “I do, actually. Would you happen to have a place where I could quarter him?”

The villager tucked a lock of their long hair behind their ear, grinning. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m just a stable hand, but we’ve had a shortage of travelers for too long for the quartermaster to turn you away.” They hummed low in their throat, scratching the back of their head. “The stable’s not hard to find. It’s the first thing you see on your way out of town— when you’re going towards the mountains, that is.” They snorted. “I noticed you came through the easier way.”

“My mother used to live here, “ Souji explained. “I don’t really know much about Inaba, but I can find my way in well enough.” They didn’t add that they required explicit instructions to do so.

Regardless, the stable hand seemed impressed. “You have a fair bit of potential, don’t you?”

“I don’t know about that,” Souji said, ducking their head. “I just do what I can.” Unconsciously, they reached out to stroke Izanagi. “Anyway, I truly am grateful for the space. You really didn’t have to offer.”

The stable hand waved a hand. “You would’ve stopped by anyway. Where else would you keep your horse?”

Souji shrugged. “We’re used to camping out in unusual places.” They eyed Izanagi fondly.  “I guess all that’s left is figuring out where I’m sleeping now. I’ll drop by the stable after I meet my uncle and see if I have a place to stay. Would you happen to know where the Dojima residence is?”

The stable hand’s face split into a grin. “Related to the constable, are you? Good for you, kid. Just head westward,” they pointed, “and you’ll find him right next to the gaol. Never stops working, that one.” Here, they stuck out their hand. “I look forward to seeing how your journey ends.”

Souji reached out to shake their hand. The moment they did so, Izanagi jolted back, snorting.

“Whoa, steady there,” Souji soothed, stepping back to make sure Izanagi was all right. They glanced around, trying to see what could have spooked the horse. Just as they were about to turn around to ask the stable hand if they had noticed anything, they were overcome with a sudden bout of dizziness.

“Are you alright there?” The stable hand asked, sounding as if they were muttering in the middle of a rainstorm.

“I— I, uh,” Souji opened their mouth once, twice, three times in an effort to respond, but it felt like every word they tried to speak was trapped in their throat. Every time one made a break for freedom, it would be stopped by the heavy weight forming in their mouth.

“Do you need to sit down?”

At these words, Souji’s sight began to focus, the world slowly came to a standstill, and the weight began to lessen. After a moment, they thought they could attempt to speak.

“I—I think I’m okay,” they said. “Or at least, I’m getting better.” After a moment, they added, “Thank you for your concern,” as an afterthought.

“No worries,” the stable hand responded.  “Just get to your uncle’s place safely.  It’d be a shame if you stumbled at this point in your journey.”

Souji nodded absentmindedly. “I’ll take my leave then. Thank you again for your help.”

The stable hand waved them off with a smile.  “It was nothing at all. I was just giving you the tools you needed. Good luck.”

With nothing more to say, Souji tugged at Izanagi’s reins. It was time to greet their uncle.

* * *

The stable hand had been apt in their description of the house. It was indeed ‘right next to the gaol’ to the degree that one building looked as if it was swallowing the other. Luckily, both were sizeable buildings. Souji’s hope of receiving lodging grew exponentially at the sight of them.

In the letter they had received, their uncle had assured them there would be room for them, but they hadn’t dared to believe it until that moment. Souji inhaled, holding the breath for a long moment. Finally, they released it, turning to Izanagi.

“I’m going to tie you to the post for a few minutes, but I’ll be right out to take you to the stables soon.” Izanagi snorted, prompting a chuckle from Souji. “Mmnhmn. I know,” they responded, tying him to the post. “What an awful rider you have.”  Izanagi turned his head towards Souji, nuzzling their hair for a moment.

“I’ll be right back,” they promised, turning away in the direction of the household. Steadying themself, they walked up to the door and knocked.

It was a long, tense moment before the door opened, and when it did, a brunet man who was just as tall as Souji, even if he was more than twice their age, answered.  They stared at each other for a moment before the man grinned.

“You must be Souji, right? We’ve been expecting you,” he said, extending his hand. Souji shook it, smiling a bit in return. “Come on in,” the man, Souji’s uncle, invited.

“Thank you, sir, but I really have to bring my horse around to the stables before I get settled in.”

Their uncle’s forehead wrinkled in confusion until he suddenly began to chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m not exactly strict about when you’re in or outside the house as long as you stay out of trouble. Well, outside of the trouble I wrote to you about, that is,” his voice lowered in volume at this point, prompting confusion on Souji’s part until they spotted a young girl frozen in the parlor.

“Nanako,” their uncle prompted, “this is your cousin, Souji. They’ll be staying with us for a bit. Remember when I told you about them?”

Nanako nodded, unfreezing slightly. She glanced at Souji before her eyes began to dart around, presumably searching for an escape.

“I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality,” Souji ventured, glancing between both figures. If anything, Nanako seemed to stiffen further.

“No need to be so formal, Souji. You can call me Dojima, for one, and it’s scaring Nanako for two.”

Nanako flushed, but did not dispute the claim. Souji inwardly winced. Interacting with people was hard, but they thought they were okay when it came to children and animals. Making Nanako uncomfortable was the last thing they wanted.

“Alright… Dojima,” Souji agreed. “I’d still like to thank you for sharing your home.”

Dojima waved a hand. “We have the space, and it’s the least I can do for you actually responding to my request.”

Souji glanced at Nanako. “About that trouble…?” They ventured quietly.

Dojima’s mouth stiffened into a line. “We can talk about that after you’ve found some accommodations for your horse.”

Souji nodded. “I’ll go take care of Izanagi then. It was nice meeting you, Nanako, Dojima.”  They then ventured back outside to collect their belongings from Izanagi’s saddlebags, and eventually retire Izanagi to the stables.

It was a fairly efficient process, with the only strange element being the absence of the stable hand Souji had spoken with earlier. Souji spoke with the quartermaster about the rates charged for keeping Izanagi housed, and she was as enthused about having a customer as the stable hand had predicted.

Very few people owned or needed horses in Inaba, but the few that did kept them at the community stables. Souji would be renting for a lower rate than most, since Izanagi was only staying there on a temporary basis, but the expenses would be coming straight out of their pocket instead of being covered by the town’s taxes.

 

* * *

 

After negotiating and making sure that Izanagi was comfortable, Souji made their way back to the Dojima residence. They were rather proud that they only stopped to pet a stray cat or two since there was important business at hand, and they didn’t have time to waste. It wasn’t often that someone spotted a monster in a valley town.

When Dojima answered the door, his face was grim. “I’d rather discuss the problem in the gaol. It’s not the most comfortable place to do business, but I don’t like talking of evil in the house. Valley superstitions, you know? They don’t make much sense, but…” He trailed off, scratching at the scruff on his chin.

Souji nodded in understanding. Their mother had said similar things when Souji was small. “It’s a good thing I’m still outside, then.” They stepped backwards, allowing Dojima to lead the way.  Their eyes fell on the unlit lantern he carried before looking to the thinnest sliver of sun that still sat on the horizon. It would be dark within five minutes’ time.

Dojima unlocked the front of the gaol, ushering Souji inside. “Be careful when you’re passing through. The door’s heavier than it looks.” Almost in confirmation of his words, the door closed with a heavy thump that rattled the frame around it.

Souji made a noise of confirmation, eyes flickering to the vibrating frame in concern. It would hurt like hell to catch something in the way of that thing.

Taking their eyes off of the door, they then examined the space around them. There were a few benches, as well as a long counter, but the room was bare for the most part.

“Most of the detainees are put in the back rooms,” Dojima explained. “I think we’d best chat up front, unless you’ve managed to break a law within the ten minutes you’ve been here.” He chuckled.

Souji shook their head. “I don’t think I have.” They hesitated, wondering if they should have nodded and agreed with staying in the front instead.

Dojima was already moving towards a bench and setting the lantern on the adjacent counter, however, so Souji didn’t have much time to worry over whether they misspoke.

Their uncle walked to the gas lantern on the nearest wall and lit it with a match, better illuminating the room. “Drives the darkness away as soon as the conversation’s over,” he said, frowning. After he finished, he sat down on the bench with a huff of breath and a slump. He seemed to rest for a moment, looking at the wall. Souji, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, looked anywhere else.

Finally, Dojima began to speak. “I don’t feel comfortable getting you involved with this mess. You’re my sister’s kid, no matter what your status, and battling monsters is an elder’s game. We have less to lose, usually.

“Still, going off and chasing after demons wouldn’t be fair to Nanako, and it would leave most of the town undefended. People here are too used to being protected by the mountains; they wouldn’t consider a threat a threat until someone ended up dead. I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I had had a choice. No offence.”

Souji nearly wrinkled their nose, but managed to keep a straight face. “The creature’s that dangerous, then?”

Dojima nodded. “Livestock’s been slaughtered— the remains usually end up on Konishi’s property for some fool reason. Sometimes you can hear howls so damn obscene that I had to rush to make sure Nanako was inside. I don’t want to think about the nightmares she’d have if she heard them. What’s worse is that it seems to be taunting us with mind games.”

Souji jolted. “Mind games?” they asked, skeptical. “How would a monster do that?”

Dojima sighed. “I told you about the entrails left for the Konishi family to discover, right? In addition to that, the monster carves out crude figures in trees. We aren’t sure if it’s some kind of warning, or if it’s meant to scare the shit out of whoever finds it so that they’re panicked by the time the beast finds them.”

Souji grimaced. “So the creature’s at least intelligent enough to plan ahead.”

“You see why I asked for your help?” Dojima asked, rubbing at his eyes with the curve of his palm. “Every time we go out to track it, it doubles back around and changes its base of operations. We’re a bunch of merchants and farmers led by one constable. The last lord Inaba died fifteen years ago. We aren’t prepared to fight this thing.”

“I think I do see,” Souji said. “I’m glad you asked me for help, Dojima. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“I don’t think you have a chance of doing that. My sister raised you right, Souji. You’ll do just fine,” Dojima affirmed, clapping his hands to his legs and standing up. “Alright. Get a good rest tonight because I managed to make an appointment with Saki Konishi for you tomorrow morning at ten. She should be able to tell you more about the livestock problem.”

Souji opened their mouth in surprise before closing it just as quickly. “Thank you, Dojima. You didn’t have to do that.”

Dojima waved his hand. “Eh, you would have had to do it anyway. I just made it easier for you. Now let’s go back to the house. It’s getting cold in here.”

Souji pursed their lips. People laying the groundwork for them seemed to be a running theme for them that day. It was odd, to say the least. They tried to shake off the feeling that some sort of choice was being made for them and followed their uncle back to the house.

 

* * *

 

Nanako had set the table by the time they had returned, and they had all enjoyed their first meal together with a kind of sombre thoughtfulness. After they had finished, Souji thanked them both for the meal and retired to their room.

Once there, however, Souji’s gaze fell upon their belongings, and they realized that they had yet to confirm their arrival with anyone outside of Inaba. As much as they hated initiating calls, they had to make sure to check in. It wouldn’t do to cause anyone to worry.

After a moment of consideration, they fumbled about, searching for their scrying glass.  Eventually they found it, fingers scrabbling against its smooth edges. Quickly wiping it with a bit of their tunic, Souji squinted in the dark to see if it was clean enough to work.

They finally hummed in satisfaction and set it down before settling down themself. “Evoke mirror G-1,” Souji whispered. The glass began to emit a bright light before dimming, fogging over, and then clearing, as if it were a window into another scene. Souji waited a moment, wondering if Chie was too busy to answer, but then heard the clattering of someone’s blundering approach. However, it was not the person Souji had thought it would be.

“Seta! It’s nice to see your face after weeks of abandonment.” Tohru Adachi’s ever-present grin shined out of the depiction, illuminated by the window directly adjacent to his mirror.  The sun had yet to leave the capital. “Left us to suffer training on our own, huh? I can’t say I blame you though.”

Souji blinked rapidly, both at the comparative brightness of the scene before them and the presence of Adachi. “Lieutenant-Commander Adachi, I would have been in separate training anyway.”

“Bah, that’s right! Probably a good thing, too— I would hate to have to romp around the country all the time like you palfrey knights do.”

Souji decided to keep the observation that Adachi had been based in another country as an ambassador’s guard to themself. “Lieutenant Commander, I have to admit, I’m surprised. I wasn’t exactly expecting your presence, as I thought Satonaka would answer.”

“Afraid not,” Adachi answered with a sympathetic smile. “She was put back on guard detail for the Princess. You know how it is. Everyone’s rushing about in preparation for the summer season.”

Souji winced. Chie had been put on the Princess’s guard every summer for the past three years, but they always forgot that she was assigned well before that. “In that case, I apologise for bothering you, Lieutenant-Commander.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! Besides, now I get to warn you ahead of time— you arrived in Inaba just as things got interesting.”

That captured Souji’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“One of the royal scribes was caught having an affair with an information dispensary worker,” at this, Souji’s attention flagged, “and the worker fled to Inaba.”

“What?” Souji stared at the glass in bemusement. “Are they travelling alone?”

“No, no,” Adachi crossed his arms, a knowing grin spread across his features. “She’s _in_ Inaba. She’s an empathic teleport. Apparently her family lives there, and so when she felt unsafe— poof!” Adachi spread his palms and widened his eyes, presumably to mime her vanishing act.

“I see,” Souji said.

“Hey, act more excited, Seta! This is the most excitement Inaba has seen in years. Or it would be if you weren’t dealing with,” Adachi flapped his hand, “whatever’s going on there.”

“I’ll try to contain my enthusiasm, Lieutenant-Commander.”

“You need to lighten up one of these days, Seta.  Live a little,” Adachi commanded. “Alright, I need to go do some real training, unlike a certain knight who’s frolicking about without appreciating the gift they’ve been given. Good afternoon— well, night for you— Seta.”

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander.”

Souji stared down at the scrying glass as it went dark for a long moment before groaning. They’d have to try Chie’s personal glass. It would have been worlds easier if they had just asked Adachi to pass along the message that they were safe.

Frowning at their own thoughtlessness, they set up the glass once more. “Evoke Mirror P-1735,” they whispered before watching the mirror flare to life.

Luckily, Chie answered right away. “Souji! You’re not dead!”

“Amazingly, no,” Souji responded wryly. “I hope that’s all right with you.”

“Of course it’s all right with me, you weirdo. I’m happy you seem to have all your limbs intact. I, meanwhile, am about to lose my head.”

“You’ve done something worthy of execution, then?” Souji hummed. “Did you kick an ambassador again?”

“What? No! I would never do that! I promised Yuki- the Princess, remember?” Chie flushed at the accusation. “I was going to tell you that the Princess is overworking herself. I may have accidentally let slip that I thought as much.”

Souji nodded sympathetically.  They’d had this conversation enough times that Souji knew when to react. Chie wasn’t done yet.

“I just wish that she’d admit to herself that she can’t do everything by herself, you know? She can depend on me— I mean, she can depend on all of us! We all really care about her, you know.” Chie was assuming that Souji knew a lot of things, but they prided themself in being well versed in this exchange, at least.

“She could afford to delegate some tasks,” Souji conceded.

“I know, right?” Chie exclaimed. “Anyway, I need to go apologise and get back to work. I’m glad you made it to Inaba okay— I told you that wilderness training would pay off! Now go sleep, or whatever you do at night.”

With that abrupt farewell, the glass dimmed. Souji smiled. At least Chie was enjoying herself.

They stowed the mirror away and readied themselves for bed. Tomorrow they would interview Saki Konishi, but for now they were ready to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_Souji was surrounded. Trees arched high overhead, and fog incased them. The only light they had was filtered through the canopy above, illuminating the mist in streaks and blots. Their breath came in panicked pants, and the sweat on their palms slid on the handle of their sword, even as they realized how ridiculous that was._

_They would never fight without a gauntlet if they had a choice. Besides, this is what grips were made for. What sense did it make for them to barely be able to hold on?_

**_“Wrong.”_ **

_Souji whipped around, ready to strike. They hit something solid._

**_“Wrong.”_ **

_This time the voice came from their left. Souji turned once more, waiting to attack. Finally, they spotted movement, and they slashed at the source. There was a yelp, almost doglike in sound._

_**“Wrong.”** There was a pause this time, notable in its brevity. **“Maybe it was I who was wrong. Where is your potential?”**_

_Souji took in everything around them, watching their surroundings. It took a long moment of observation, but they finally realized why the scene felt so wrong. The little light there was wasn’t creating shadows. The shadows were moving by themselves._

_With this in mind, Souji struck out once more, this time attacking the shadow closest to them._

_**“There it is.”** _

_The voice said this with the same inflection as it had while proclaiming everything wrong. It pissed Souji off a little bit. Still, they didn’t speak. They knew, somehow, that responding would be giving in._

_**“Maybe this journey will be interesting after all. Goodbye, Souji Seta. Goodbye, and good luck.”** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, I had to research a lot of horse stuff for this thing. Souji needed a ride, and I needed to fit Izanagi in somewhere; however, I'm about as well-informed about how horses express affection as the next person, so I had to go forum diving. I never knew there were that many forums about horses in this world. 
> 
> Anyway, that's chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Glossary:  
> *Gaol (n.)- a place for the confinement of people accused or convicted of a crime.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a one-sided conversation is held with a tree, a split-second appearance occurs, Souji makes a friend, and the author exploits game mechanics for the lolz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings specific to this chapter: Animal (cow) death, strangulation, swords, and blood.

Souji had never hated sunlight more than they did the morning they were to meet with Saki Konishi. Upon waking they had grabbed their head in pain, the pounding driving any reflection on their dreams out of their mind.

By the time they set out, they had been rubbing their forehead for what seemed like hours with little indication of relief, and the sun had shown no evidence of mercy, the sky free of clouds that might otherwise obscure it.  This was not made easier by their route, as Konishi Liquor was based at the furthest point of the village to the northeast.

The journey was fraught with discomfort, to say the least.  The view of the well-manicured path that led to their destination would have been lovely if not for the light stabbing through the slits in Souji’s hands as they tried to keep from tripping over their own feet. The bits that they could see were lush and green, only hindered by the transition into the packed dirt that made up the path on which they walked.

Souji frowned. It was frustrating to be unable to like things that they usually enjoyed, such as the grass, the breeze, or even the sky. Instead of making things better, the beautiful day made them worse. Souji couldn’t even remedy it by enjoying someone’s company. Izanagi was still resting at the stables, and the scrying glass only worked when held still.

Feeling vaguely irritable in the face of their inability to feel better on command, Souji rummaged around in their bag for something to take their mind off of their headache. They nearly tripped over their own feet doing so, but they eventually surfaced with a scrap of self-correcting parchment.

Souji folded it into more and more complex shapes, tapping it in order to restore it to unmarked stiffness every time they finished. They hummed in contentment as they became absorbed in their task. However, they soon ran into a problem in the form of a rather large tree.

“Oi!” Souji exclaimed. They looked up, blinking at the massive cottonwood they’d manage to run into while distracted.

“Maybe I should have worn my heavy armor today, after all,” Souji joked, pleased that no one saw them collide with a tree and managing to avoid hitting their head and making a bad thing worse. Feeling a bit silly, they patted the tree, grimacing at the texture of whatever sap it seemed to be producing. “Sorry for running into you. It was my mistake.” Souji then wiped the sticky residue that the tree had left on their tunic, turned away, trying to return to the path.

A moment later, they heard the rustle of leaves. Shocked, they whirled around to face the tree, thinking only that they were in no condition to have accidentally angered a spirit that morning.

Instead of an angry tree spirit, however, someone with long, light hair and grey eyes was watching them in bewilderment, closer to the path than the tree. “Did you just apologize to a cottonwood?”

Souji winced, their headache growing worse in degrees. “I,” they started, “Well, I... I’m sorry. I don’t have a good answer to that.”

The other person nodded slowly, their forehead wrinkling in thought. “So, are you passing through Inaba?”

Souji had to take a moment to consider just how badly they must have come off for the other person to want them out of the town as soon as possible.  They spared a thought for the information dispensary worker and envied her for her ability to transport elsewhere.  Going anywhere else in the world sounded far more appealing than having to answer the stranger standing before them.

“No, I’m actually staying with my uncle while I investigate a few things,” Souji said, closing their lips over the apology that wanted to accompany their statement.

“Oh,” the stranger said, closing their eyes in what looked like resignation. “So you’re Mr. Dojima’s nephew?”

Souji felt like a rock was forming in their stomach as a suspicion as to with whom they were speaking stole over them. They rolled the piece of parchment in their hands for a moment, hesitating before grabbing their Medallion. Finally, they spoke, holding up the pendant to re-enforce their claim. “That would be me, yes.”

“I’m Saki Konishi.” She opened her eyes, apparently done composing herself, and eyed the Medallion appraisingly. “I’ll be supplying you with information regarding the case.” She held out her hand. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

Souji smiled weakly, transferred the pendant to their bag, and shook her hand. “I am pleased to make yours as well.”

After that disastrous episode, the two took to the path once more in near-silence. Saki had parchment of her own, and she seemed to switch between them to scribble calculations down as they occurred to her. Souji didn’t have the heart to play with their own parchment, so they stored it away.

After walking for minutes that spanned centuries, Souji broke the silence. “I wasn’t expecting you to meet me this far from the estate,” they ventured.

The Konishi liquor store had opened out of the wine cellar of the late lord’s massive property, according to Dojima. He had left the estate to the town, and Saki’s grandfather had taken full advantage of that fact. It wasn’t often that one inherited a large store of alcohol and a place to sell it with few taxes attached, after all. There had originally been complaints regarding the legality of it, but most everyone had calmed down once they realized the rest of the manor was open for public use as housing and storage.

Saki looked up from her calculations. “You know about the building’s history, then?” She smiled. “Well, I wanted to check to make sure you hadn’t gotten lost. The people here are nice, but they’re easily bored. I wouldn’t put it past a few of them to give faulty directions for entertainment. Besides, I needed the time to work out this.” She gestured to her parchment with her quill. “The accounts are off somewhere, and it’s getting a bit difficult to figure out where. I hope you don’t mind if I’m a bit preoccupied,” she apologized.

In light of the amount of work that seemed to overwhelm her, Souji felt like they should be the one apologizing for interrupting her work. Still, with their meeting already in progress, there seemed no way to do so without making the entire situation even more awkward.

“It’s no problem,” Souji assured her. “I really only need to ask you about a few details, and then I’ll just investigate whatever areas you find most pertinent.”

Saki nodded. “Thank you.”

Souji ran through their mental list of questions before settling on a starting point. “How long have the animal attacks been occurring?”

Saki frowned, thinking. “I remember that they began about two months before the carcasses began to appear on the property. I remember because our supplier was upset. The mead that month wasn’t fermented properly, and I recall having to spend the next few weeks trying to get a refund out of him. He’s the superstitious sort, and was convinced that November ‘belonged to the shadows’, so it was their fault if the spirits went off.” She shook her head. “We really should look into alternative suppliers, but you learn to make do.”

Souji smiled, glad that she was being so helpful. “I’m surprised that you remember all this offhand,” they said.

Saki shrugged, fiddling with her parchment. “If I hadn’t been prepared for this I would be hard-pressed to say anything.  I’m not good with facing things without warning; however, Mr. Dojima told me that you would be coming, so I was prepared. He set up a temporary scrying glass as well, so that he could set up the appointment as soon as you arrived.”

“I see,” Souji answered. Their uncle hadn’t mentioned that to them.

After a moment, Saki started fiddling with her quill. “What else did you want to ask me?” she prompted.

“Was there any kind of pattern you noticed in how the animals were killed?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I need a second to think for that one.” Saki wiggled her quill back in forth, biting her lip in thought.

Souji took a moment to subtly massage their forehead as they waited. They closed their eyes against the sunlight, allowing themself the reprieve. The warm glow of red behind their eyes was a welcome improvement, and the near-silence likely contributed as well, no matter how much Souji appreciated the company. The only thing they could hear was the occasional bird, a few rustling bushes that probably indicated mating season had indeed arrived, and the padding of feet on the path.

“Oh, right!” Souji’s eyes opened with a snap as Saki caught their attention. “The livestock are usually ones that no one’s been able to sell for months.” She hummed, a proud smile blossoming on her face.  “On top of that, they were definitely attacked by an animal. No human could leave marks like that.”

“Although,” she added, her smile slipping into a furrowed brow and a worried press of lips, “Naoki, my brother, said that they were killed really efficiently.”

“How so?” Souji asked, leaning towards her to hear better.

“It seemed like the thing that attacked them took care to kill them quickly enough that they wouldn’t feel any more pain than necessary. Certain areas were targeted.” Saki made a movement as if to fold her arms against her chest, but aborted the gesture when she almost stabbed herself in the chest with her quill.  “Oh, gods, that would have been bad. This is my business shirt.” She winced, shaking her head.

After a moment, she spoke again. “It seems silly, but I thought for a moment that whatever this creature is, it could think like a human.” She faltered. “I’m not really sure what we’d do with that particular information.”

Souji bit their lip, nodding. “Mn,” they agreed, “that would make things more difficult.”

A few beats of strained silence passed them by as they walked along, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally, Saki broke the quiet. “Oh, the estate is just around this bend. If you really want to investigate it, I’ll show you to the area where the carcasses usually appear. I’m not sure how helpful it will be, though” She sighed. “We haven’t found any clues yet.”

Souji flashed what they hoped was a reassuring expression at her. “I’d be very grateful if you did. I’d hate to not do the job to the best of my ability.”

To Souji’s surprise and dismay, Saki seemed to stiffen at that. They were about to apologize for whatever they might have done when she relaxed.

“I know what you mean,” she said, her smile only slightly strained. Before Souji could ask what was wrong, she had turned to face forward.

“There it is. The center of my world,” she intoned.

Souji turned. Before them rose a stately manor. The stone of which it was comprised seemed aged, and the vegetation was quite a bit overgrown, but it was obviously well cared for. Crisp sheets billowed in the breeze, hanging out of a few of the windows facing front, and a shaded gazebo stood to the side, its worn paint making it look friendly, rather than battered. The scene would have been near idyllic if not for the glaring presence of one notable exception.

“Oh,” Saki said, the word falling from her mouth in unhappy realization, the blood draining from her face. “It looks like you’ll have something to investigate after all.”

A slaughtered cow lay just to the south of the gazebo.

Souji took a moment to swallow, their mouth suddenly dry. “So it does.”

* * *

Saki had gone inside to warn the rest of the estate’s inhabitants about the dead cow. Several of the occupants had young children, and the sight of a fresh corpse would likely keep them up for weeks, she had explained.

Souji, meanwhile, donned their gloves and started examining the corpse. Crouching by the head, they lifted it and noted the slight difficulty in moving it.  Souji had seen dead bodies while serving at the sick-house, and memories of fingers that would not unclench for hours, alongside the lack of stench in the heat of the day, told them more clearly than anything else that the kill was fresh.

Then, of course, there was the matter of the cow’s throat.

Blood ceased to flow freely upon death, an unforgettable fact after years of hearing the preachers on every other block of the capital cry it out as a proof of the inevitable resurrection of The Just. The blood dripping from the cow’s throat had barely begun to dry. More curious still was the wound’s appearance.

It resembled the wounds incurred by livestock that had been attacked by wolves. The raw look of the flesh, stripped of protection, looked all too similar to a wound they’d seen not six months ago while training for graduation. It was near identical to the way the hind of Kou’s prize heifer had looked the day after she was attacked. Such a comparison would be enough to chalk the incident up to a wolf attack. The problem was that Souji remembered the way their team leader had shook his head and said, “They always go for the back legs. Well, that or the ass.” He had patted the poor animal, avoiding its injured flank. “At least the poor girl will heal. Most anyone can recover from a pain in the butt.”

One thing was for certain. This particular cow would never recover. Souji looked down at it in dread, considering the facts as they understood them. The question of how a wolf could manage to not only attack a cow from the front and win, but also target and rip out its throat in one attempt was a baffling and near terrifying one. Souji took a moment to recall the tree incident longingly, wishing that their armor was only needed to defend against cottonwoods.

Closing their eyes, they shook themself back into a more professional mindset. They were a knight now— not some bumbling trainee with a team at their back. They had to be the strength of others, and to do that they couldn’t depend on Chie or Kou or their instructors— no matter how much they wanted to.

Sighing, Souji laid the head down to rest, taking a moment to stare unseeingly down at their feet. Readying themself for their duty, they snapped to attention all at once. In fact, they did this so suddenly that they were able to catch a glimpse of brown eyes and bloodstained fangs winking in the sunlight before they vanished in a rustle of leaves.

Souji jerked backwards, reaching for their absent sword belt on instinct. They could almost swear they heard Chie in the back of their mind, chiding Kou for teasing Souji. “If you don’t have your armor, you’re a meat sack with a sword. If you don’t have a sword, you’re dinner, but at least you’re dinner that can deliver a swift kick to the abdomen.”

 ****Souji had always carried too many supplies. They had even carried back-up weapons for their teammates back in training. Everyone except for Chie had made jokes about it. “You’re going to have to leave it all behind when we’re running for our lives, you know,” Kou had told them time and time again.

So why, Souji berated themself from the comfort of their own mind, did they choose today of all days to leave their only means of defense at home?

They had to calm down. Souji looked down at the carnage that was the slaughtered cow, and quickly revised that to having to calm down inside— preferably behind a locked door. They could strategize, then.

Souji stood slowly, even as they winced at the way the motion made their head pulse in pain. They kept their eyes on their surroundings.  Now was not the time to be careless.

As they walked towards the estate, they took inventory of the things they would need for an expedition into the forest. They had almost arrived at the door when it flew open.

Saki stumbled into Souji, her face pale. She jerked back, looking up at Souji with panic writ in her wide eyes and her mouth trying and failing to shape words.

Souji quickly suppressed any disquiet they had been feeling, instead focusing on Saki. “Are you able to speak right now?”

Saki opened her mouth, but just as quickly closed it. She shook her head rapidly.

“Okay.” Souji tried to look encouraging. “That’s alright. It happens. Just nod or shake your head like you’ve been doing, and try to take deeper breaths.”

Saki nodded, pushing her hair back only to wrap a lock of it around her hand, nervously curling and uncurling it.

“Are you injured?”

She shook her head in the negative.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Saki glared at them and jerked her head in the affirmative.

“Is someone else injured?”

Saki worked her mouth while nodding, trying to force herself to say something. “Sh- ah,” she started, screwing up her face in effort.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything before you can,” Souji said. “Just take me to wherever the problem is.

Saki nodded, her face still contorted in consternation, and grabbed Souji’s hand, pulling them into the building. She led the way as they rushed through hallways that they couldn’t help but think should be darker. The natural light gave everything a cheery cast that seemed to mock every frantic step they took.

By the third corridor, Saki started speaking, her voice hitching. “W-we have a guest who stays with her fa-family here sometimes. She keeps to herself, but she a-always told me stories when I was younger. They were all true, always.” Saki paused to breathe. “Sh-she seemed sad this time, so I left her a-alone. But when I went to tell her about the cow, I opened the door and she was…” She trailed off, her choppy breaths sounding like sobs.

Souji wanted to help, but they didn’t know how. They didn’t have the power to calm or heal. All they could do was run faster and hope that Saki’s friend wasn’t dead.

No matter how much they might have considered that hope wishful thinking, it was still a relief to see the rise and fall of breath upon bursting through the guest’s door and spotting her body, propped up in a chair as she was. The lack of blood and overturned furniture was only further comfort. Less relieving, however, was the clear evidence of bruising beginning to appear on the woman’s neck, along with her steadfast unconsciousness.

 **S** aki looked ill at the sight. “I tried waking her up when I found her, but she wouldn’t respond.” She clutched her arms close to her chest. “I d-didn’t know what to do. You were closer than Mr. Dojima, and…” She trailed off.

Souji nodded. “Thank you for alerting me,” they said, “I’m going to check her for any signs of lasting damage, but we should alert the local physician. I’m not really qualified for in-depth medical practice.” They eyed the unconscious woman apprehensively, crossing the floor to crouch low beside her. They tried to hide their discomfort as the world rushed up above them, refusing to hold their head and distress Saki even more. “Do you have any smelling salts?” they asked.

Saki hesitated a moment, looking indecisive, before a determined look stole over her features. “We don’t have any, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find some.  The apothecary is close— closer than anything else. I’ll return with a healer and smelling salts before the sun reaches its highest point.”

Souji wavered for a moment. “Will you be safe? The thing that took down that cow this morning might be dangerous to humans as well.”

“That beast, whatever it is, has been around for a half a year now. If it wanted to attack people, it would have done so by now.” She drew herself up to her full height. “We need a healer, and if I don’t get one, someone else will have to.”

Souji opened their mouth to voice one final concern, but then spotted Saki’s hands, shaking at her sides. A memory, replaying in the form of a refrain, choked off their words. They recalled Kou looking down in concern, babbling about nothing in an attempt to relieve the tension of their stakeout. Daisuke, the team leader for that outing, had quieted him, sending him to check the bolts on the crossbows.

“People need to occupy themselves,” he’d explained, “or their thoughts creep in. When the thoughts creep in, emotions get all over the place. It can be useful for when you need to make personal decisions,” he shook his head, “but never in combat. Emotions don’t help in battle.”

However, tactics also had their place in battle. “Saki, whoever did that to your friend—“

“Mayumi,” she interjected.

“Whoever tried to strangle Mayumi could still be out there. I think that it might be a better idea for me to find the physician while you warn everyone about the presence of an assailant.”

Saki considered this for a moment before her eyes widened in realization. “I don’t think whoever attacked her is outside, Souji.”

They looked at her, mouth opening in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

“Because Mayumi’s room doesn’t have a window, and we came through the only door.” She hesitated. “Did… Did you see anyone come out of the estate while you were examining the cow?”

“I didn’t,” Souji said, their heart sinking to their stomach. “We need to evacuate the building.”

“ _I_ need to evacuate the building,” Saki corrected, her hands shaking worse than ever. “ _You_ have to go find the healer.”

“What? If the person who attacked her is still in the building—“

“Then they won’t go after such a large group if all they have is their hands. These people know me, and they trust me. If some stranger from the capital charges in to ask them to evacuate, they won’t listen.” A shaky smile formed on her face, “especially a stranger who talks to trees. They’ll listen to me, though. I can do this.”

Souji considered her argument for a long while before reluctantly nodding. It was the only way.

“I’ll just look Mayumi over for a moment so that I know what to tell the physician,” they said.

Saki nodded, looking more and more confident with her role as moments passed. “Hurry,” she urged.

Souji almost laughed. Taking a nap and going out for a cup of tea wouldn’t fit in the agenda, apparently. Still, they couldn’t blame her. When one has few facts to work with, they reinforce what little they have again and again.

Keeping this in mind, they swiftly examined Mayumi. The bruises forming on her neck were clearly made by hands. However, the marks seemed indicative of greater force than even Daisuke or Chie could muster, while the way they looked seemed to imply someone with small, slender hands was doing the throttling. Souji shook their head in bewilderment.

“What’s wrong?” Saki asked.

“Just something about these bruises. I’m sure the physician will know more than I will.”

Saki frowned, but nodded in acceptance of their explanation.

Souji continued their investigation, but nothing new came to light until they looked at Mayumi’s face. Her eyes flickered back and forth, even behind her closed eyelids. Souji had seen this occur in their teammates whenever they had been on watch duty, but it usually only happened after they had been asleep for more than an hour. Souji frowned. Inaba’s problems just grew ever more complicated, and they had no idea how to simplify them.

After a final review, there was nothing left to do but seek out the physician.

“Old Lady Shiroku lives just to the south,” Saki explained, “There’s a path by the gazebo that you can’t see until you go through it.” She wrinkled her nose. “She probably won’t mind the cow, but you should probably warn her beforehand, just in case.” A beat of silence passed as she thought before her eyes lit up. “If you’re really worried about the monster in the woods, you can do me a favor. We have a semi-ornamental sword lying around, and I don’t want to think what would happen if whoever a-attacked Mayumi found it. If you took it with you, we wouldn’t have to worry as much.”

Souji must have grimaced at the mention of an ornamental weapon because Saki immediately spoke again. “It’s a good blade, and it’s well maintained. It’s just that it hasn’t been used since the lord died, back when my father was my age.”

“How would you know it’s a good blade if it hasn’t been used in decades?”

Saki glanced away, suddenly finding the wall very interesting. “It may not have been used in battle, but a kid will play with anything if you leave them alone with it. I didn’t know it was off-limits at the time.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it cuts through pumpkins well enough,” she concluded.

Souji tried to formulate a reply but couldn’t. In the end, the only way to respond was by accepting the offer for the sword. Saki had been correct in her testimony as to its functionality, and although Souji wouldn’t have picked it out of an armory, it would serve their purposes.

Sliding it into the scabbard it had come with, Souji waved Saki farewell before heading to the gazebo. Saki, already directing evacuation, nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to her work.

Once Souji reached the entrance to the path, winding before them like a resting snake  and surrounded by dark foliage on all sides, they could only hope that the situation wouldn’t get any worse.

* * *

 

_**“Asking the universe not to do something is futile. The universe doesn’t understand negation. Something either is, or it isn’t. If you are to ask for something that isn’t there, it will give you it, no matter how loudly you scream to the sky that you do not want it later on.** _

__ _**“For instance, if a man were ill, he might pray to whatever gods he knows for future health. The universe understands this, and it responds in whatever way it can.** _

_"_ _**However, if the man begs and prays to ‘not get any worse’, the universe can only hear ‘get worse, get worse, get worse’ in a constant refrain.** _

__ _**“How do you imagine the universe responds to that?”** _

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to have Yosuke, but then it got too long. I had to chop off a good two thousand words. On the bright side, this means two thousand words of the next chapter are already written, and you can reasonably assume many of them will pertain to Yosuke.
> 
> Of course, what we all really care about is Souji's wicked cool origami skills.There were so many things wrong with the Persona 4 anime, but god did I love Souji's origami. I used to stim by making origami all the time, so that always struck a chord with me and my neurodivergent headcanons.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which misunderstandings are had, social links are established, and Yosuke complains.

Never had a journey been as anticlimactic as the trip to Old Lady Shiroku’s apothecary was. However, Souji wasn’t inclined to think that was a bad thing.

The healer— she had corrected them when they called her a physician— had given them something for their headache that smelled strongly of mint. It had made the pain all but dissipate, and Souji immediately wanted to obtain thirty-four vials of the stuff.

They had tried to thank her for her aid, but she had waved it off, pushing them out the door with a tightly sealed container of smelling salts, and calling out that she had to ready herself for travel.

“Go on ahead and attend that poor dear,” she’d chided them, flapping her hand at their backside.

Given no other choice, Souji made their way down the path in a state somewhere between bewilderment and pleased relief. They were glad to note that the trip to the apothecary— along with the visit itself— had been such fine reprieves from the day’s chaos.

However, the trip back to the estate was an altogether different matter.

Souji had packed the container away in their bag, and was only a few minutes away from the estate when they heard the rustling of leaves just ahead. They paused a moment, their gut clenching in anticipation of further complications.

A moment passed before they continued, stooping slightly and adjusting the distribution of their weight as they went. Slowly, slowly they made their way down the path, eyes darting around to check for signs of life. Hopefully they were just being overcautious. Hopefully they would not spy the monster in the woods readying itself to attack the estate’s evacuees, vulnerable in the clearing.

Souji must have crept along for only a few moments, even if it seemed like time had snapped out of existence entirely by the time the creature gave sign of its existence.

First, there was the quiet thwip of a tail as it struck the trunk of a nearby tree. Second came a glimpse of something bright red, an astonishing contrast to all things around it. Third, there was the flash of sun glinting off of fur, a rich dark grey that darkened into brown in the shade, just visible amidst the foliage. Fourth was the rolling growl, barely audible as it was.

Souji’s grip tightened on their borrowed sword, feeling its weight in the sheath that didn’t quite fit at their side. The creature was facing the opposite direction, seemingly unaware of their presence. Souji could strike it down now, and their uncle wouldn’t look so tired. Their cousin might look less solemn. Saki would have less to worry about. Their problems would be solved with a bit of quick sword work; a quick thrust would be all it took.

The sound of the sword sliding out of its sheath, the soft shik of steel against leather, sounded all too loud even to Souji. It was too much to hope that the creature didn’t hear it. It was a testament to Souji’s training that they didn’t wince in anticipation of the creature’s reaction.

However, Souji was not expecting the response they received.

There was a beat in which all was still before the creature turned around, eyes curious and wide, and locked eyes with Souji for a long moment. In that instant, Souji realized three things: the creature was wearing a scarf; their eyes were brown; and they had a strikingly slow reaction time to possible threats.

In the next moment, their observations grew exponentially as the creature yelled, “oh, shit,” and ran into the woods, somehow making less noise doing so than they did by standing around.

Souji cast a glance at the path that led to the estate and sheathed their sword before sprinting after them. The healer would find her way to Mayumi soon enough, and if Souji kept a possible threat occupied during her journey, then all the better.

The trees weren’t much of a hindrance, spaced apart as they were, but the overgrown foliage served as an obstacle so difficult that Souji almost immediately regretted their decision to follow the creature. Still, they pressed on, keeping the red blur of the creature’s scarf in sight.

Occasionally a high growing sprig of some green interloper would thump Souji in the chest, inhibiting their progress; however, they soon found their footing, running faster, their steps becoming surer. Meanwhile, the creature seemed to be having trouble running on one of its legs. Little by little, Souji was gaining ground on it.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only one to realize this. Within the space of a moment the creature dropped out of sight.

Souji raced to the spot where they had last spotted them, heavy breaths forcing their head low even as they cast furtive glances around the area. They couldn’t have lost the creature. Nothing could just disappear— even wraiths and teleports produced something like a crack of thunder when they dissipated.

Souji ducked their head, if only for a moment. That split second was all it took. There was the sound of tearing material, the absence of weight at their side, the sound of a sword falling to the ground before the snapping maw of a furious wolf filled their vision.

Running on instinct and the movements that Chie had run through with them a thousand times, Souji punched the wolf in the trachea, cutting off its air. As it reeled, they grabbed the smelling salts from their bag and unscrewed the top, filling the air with its sharp, irritating scent.

The creature, already gasping for breath, dropped to the floor and clawed at its face before its snout, to Souji’s fascinated dismay, began to shift. Within moments, Souji was staring down at someone their own age, holding their nose with their two large paws.

Stunningly enough, the paws were not the most eye-catching facet of their appearance. They had the legs of a wolf or dog, although they looked odd somehow, perhaps so that the appendages would be sturdy enough to hold the person upright. In addition, there was the tail, swinging in tight circles of agitation. More than any of these, however, the grey ears perched amidst a shock of light brown hair caught Souji’s eye. The contrast in shades was frankly alarming.

Altogether, the image was surreal, but even more so was the continual stream of words pouring from the werewolf’s mouth.

“That wasn’t even fair! You can’t do that to a guy with an enhanced sense of smell; it’s not right. I’m not going to be able to retain my snout for weeks now.” The werewolf, seemingly identifying as male, whined low in his throat.  “Gods, this is going to be so uncomfortable.” He glared at Souji. “I hope you’re happy.”

Souji shifted a bit, unsure if they should grab their sword or not. On one hand, this was an unexpected turn for the situation, and they would feel safer armed. On the other hand, it didn’t much look like they needed a weapon.

The werewolf in front of them stopped glaring to cradle his face in his hands and groan. “Great. Great! You know, you were supposed to have run off by now, or gloat and walk away, or just anything besides stare at me with that expression for as long as you have been. Just…” They sighed and covered their eyes with their arm, quite melodramatically in Souji’s opinion. “Can you look away for a second? Leave me alone so I can die of shame or something. That’s obviously what you were trying to accomplish anyway.”

Souji bit their lip. They didn’t know that they had been making any sort of expression, much less one that would make someone want to die of shame. Unaware of any other way they might address the situation, they tried to project as much sincerity as possible as they crouched down; however, they ensured that they were closer to their sword than the werewolf. “I’m… sorry?”

“You should be,” the werewolf said, recoiling a bit, “but I’d be more likely to believe you if you would put that shit away. It’s killing my nose even in this form. I think I’m dying,” he added plaintively.

“Oh,” Souji said, “oh! Right, I’m sorry.” They sealed the smelling salts once more and packed them away in their bag. “Is that better?”

The werewolf blinked. “Much better, actually.” His tail whipped back and forth for a moment before drooping, along with his ears. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Now can you tell me why in the gods you were chasing me with a sword?”

“Um,” Souji winced, “I thought you were a menace to society?”

The werewolf blinked. “Oh.” He cocked his head, observing them with wide eyes. “Wait; do you chase anyone who’s considered a menace to society with swords? Is that more of a hobby or a job?”

“Kind of a job, yes,” Souji responded, a near hysterical laugh building in their chest. “I see that you aren’t denying you’re a menace.”

Their new conversational partner rolled his eyes and flexed his right paw experimentally, studying it with interest. “I’ve been called worse,” he said.

“Knowing you’ve been called one doesn’t tell me whether or not you actually are.”

The werewolf’s ears perked in interest before flicking back against his head. “Really?” he asked, his eyes narrowing, “You were pretty sure of it a few minutes ago.”

“A few minutes ago I thought you were attacking the local livestock, and terrorizing the townspeople besides,” Souji reasoned. They kept their eyes on his face, even as they wanted to observe all else. They didn’t have a team to note body language and intentions for them anymore, so it was up to them to pick up on the other person’s reaction— something that was somehow much easier when the subject had ears and a tail that reacted to their mood. To their surprise, however, such effort wasn’t necessary.

The werewolf flinched. “Yeah… Yeah, that might actually be my fault. Do I at least get a head start before you come at me with the sword again?”

“What?” Souji asked, bewildered. “Why would you admit to that?” They gestured expansively with their hands, too overwhelmed to maintain a composed façade. “I mean, you had the gall to ask me if I regularly chase people with swords when you apparently admit to crimes that have proven to result in being chased by aforementioned swords to the same degree of frequency? You thought that was a good idea?”

The werewolf’s ears lay flat against his head. “Give me a break,” he snapped, “my brain to mouth filter doesn’t run at top efficiency after I’ve been chased by someone with a sword, and it isn’t like it’s had much practice. I live in the woods. Conversation isn’t exactly plentiful.” He shook his head. “You know what, maybe we’d both be better off if I left right now. You can let me go with a warning to never come back, and ten years down the road I’m three countries to the west, learning the local language, and you’re happily chasing some other dude with a sword.”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek. They had been prepared to fight a monster, not critique the rhetoric skills of a lycanthrope. It seemed, once again, that the changing situation limited their options greatly.

Sighing and keeping a firm hand on the smelling salts, Souji crossed their legs to get more comfortable. “As tempting as that might be, I don’t think I’d be doing my job very well without asking why you brought the dead animals to the estate over there. I would think that you killed the livestock for food if it weren’t for the fully intact cow on the property.”

“This is the same job that requires you to chase people with swords? That must keep you busy.” The werewolf laughed, a bit nervously. “My motives are nothing special really. You know how it goes. You find dinner, you can’t eat it all, and you ran out of salt a couple of weeks ago, so you can’t keep it.” He shrugged, his eyes flickering about. “Nothing to it.”

Souji’s brow wrinkled in consternation. “Well, it has consequences that are a bit more substantial than ‘nothing’. You’ve made quite a bit of trouble for both Mr. Dojima and the Konishis, as well as— what was that?”

“What was what?” the werewolf asked, even as he failed to disguise the way his ears were near-plastered back in mortification.

“You reacted to the mention of the Konishis.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was looking right at you, and you definitely cringed.”

The werewolf hid his face with his paw. “I really do not want to have this conversation. You’re the first person I’ve talked to in something close to seven months, this is already embarrassing, and I don’t like having personal conversations with someone I don’t know while I sit in sticky cottonwood stuff that mats my fur.”

Souji blinked, intrigued. “Couldn’t you just transform so that the fur melts into your body, stand up, and transform back?” Souji asked.

“It doesn’t work like that,” the werewolf muttered. He crossed his arms, his tail curled around him.

“I see.” Souji considered him for a moment. “What does it work like then?”

The werewolf cocked his head. “You really do not grasp the concept of personal questions, do you?” He sighed, but answered anyway. “The fur has to go somewhere, right? Sticky fur just turns into sticky skin with sticky arm hair. It’s not a pleasant situation.”

Souji hummed, nodding in understanding.  A moment later, they interrupted the falling silence. “My name is Souji, by the way. Souji Seta.”

“What?” The werewolf’s brow wrinkled in confusion at the seemingly random interjection.

“You said you can’t talk to someone you don’t know while sitting in sticky stuff. If you know me, we’re halfway to the end,” Souji explained.

The werewolf stared at them for a long moment, gaping, before he began laughing. Souji blinked. They hadn’t intended to be funny.

“Alright, fair’s fair.” He grinned, giving Souji a view of the devastating canines in his mouth. “My name is Yosuke Hanamura.”

Souji, usually in possession of an infallible poker face, must have let their expression slip, as Yosuke began to look less assured with each passing moment.

“What is it?” he asked, his ears twitching. “Am I just that impressive?” He joked weakly, shifting so that he looked smaller.

“No, it’s not that,” Souji said matter-of-factly. “I just wasn’t really expecting you to have such a normal name.”

Yosuke sunk even lower, frowning. “Sorry my name isn’t Wolf McWolf, then.”

Making an apologetic gesture, Souji backtracked. “No, I just meant that since you said you lived in the woods, I thought that you would have some kind of growl or bark as your name.”

Yosuke’s face was such a picture of scandalized disbelief that Souji wanted nothing less than to be stricken by a bolt of lightning at that moment.

“I’m a shape shifter, not a wolf that was tossed into some cursed stream!”

“I didn’t know that,” Souji defended. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake, but I really, really could not have known that.”

Yosuke continued staring at them in disbelief for a long moment before bursting into laughter once more. “Well, you may be strange, but at least you’re fun.”

“You live in the forest, have apparently dyed your hair in spite of your fur being clearly visible, and have to hide your motivations for moving livestock around, yet I’m the one who’s strange?”

“That’s different!” Yosuke defended, swiping at his hair with his paw. “No one can see that my hair doesn’t match anyway. It’s an advantage of living out here.”

“That makes even less sense,” Souji objected. “If no one can see it, why do you need to dye it?”

“Why do you need to question my life choices as soon as you know my name?” Yosuke asked, crossing his arms with the smug air of someone who is confident in their final rebuke.

Souji opened their mouth to counter, but was struck by the sheer absurdity of the situation instead. The current conversation was more comfortable than many they’d had in the last two days, and it had begun with an attempted assassination.  Thus aware of the changed nature of the discussion and reminded of the mission that brought them to such a state, Souji responded to Yosuke’s remark.

“I suppose it’s because we’ve become familiar enough to talk about personal subjects.”

Yosuke squinted at Souji, his ears flicking. “You’re not going to drop this, are you? Not even if I said I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Souji shook their head. “Sorry, no. Like I said, it’s my job.” They frowned. “Besides, the things you’ve been doing have really been distressing people. I can’t let you off on the off chance that you meant well, especially considering the fact that people have reported cases of psychological warfare.”

Yosuke’s ears perked up, his face a mask of surprise. “Psychological warfare? What?”

Souji found their gaze fixing on a nearby tree, but corrected it so that they were staring just above Yosuke instead. Keeping eye contact was too exhausting, but staring at approximations would work for a while. “If I assume that the carvings in the trees were left by you, you’re the source of the howls terrifying people, and you’ve admitted to dragging carcasses onto other people’s properties, all while keeping your motives hidden, what am I supposed to infer?”

Yosuke was still for a moment. “I didn’t realize that it would make people unhappy,” he said quietly.

Souji waited, letting Yosuke compose his thoughts. After a long, heavy pause, Yosuke began to speak once more.

“I don’t usually stay this long. I like following bards around, mostly. They have good music, and it’s in short supply in the woods."

“The thing is, I found things I liked about this town. Well,” he winced, “I hated it at first, but I found one thing I really liked, which grew into more things, and so I stayed longer than I should have.”

Yosuke sighed, his head hanging in dejection. “I should know better than to follow one set of instincts when I’m in a situation that definitely applies to the other set of instincts, but it’s hard to figure out what’s right and what’s wrong when it comes to gut feelings.”

Souji rapped their knee with their knuckles, sucking on their bottom lip in bemusement. “How does that connect to leaving dead things for people to find?”

Yosuke released a low whine, covering his eyes with his paw. “The thing I liked best about the town happened to be a person. Some part of my brain that makes terrible decisions told me that a good way to deal with that was by offering them food.” He buried his head in his arms. “Can you just stab me with the sword now?”

Souji tried to disguise their first impulse, which was to amusedly consider the implications of confusing appropriate ways to interact with people and animals. Asking Yosuke if he had ever tried to shake hands with another wolf would likely not end well.

“I’m still a bit confused as to why you would conceal your identity if you thought they would like your,” Souji bit their lip for a moment before deciding on a label, continuing with, “gifts.”

Yosuke drew a talon in the dirt, scribbling incomprehensible designs in the ground. “I just wanted them to think they were being taken care of.”

Souji placed a hand over their bag, reaching for their scrying glass without being aware of doing so. “I can understand that,” they said.

Yosuke’s head came up with a jerk, affixing them with an enquiring stare before returning to his aimless doodling. “So you know I didn’t mean to scare h- them. I didn’t mean to scare them.”

Souji nodded, but Yosuke’s scribbling had reminded them of the other points. “I do understand that part, but can you explain the carvings and the howling?”

Yosuke flushed and covered his face with his arms once more. “I can’t handle quills or charcoal for very long since hands are so hard to maintain, so I was trying to draw with my paws. Carving seemed like the best solution.” His ears and tail sagged in dejection. “I thought I was getting better.”

Souji wasn’t sure what to do, but thought that reaching out and patting Yosuke on the head would result in the atmosphere becoming even more awkward. Ignoring the matter seemed safest for the moment. “And the howling?”

Yosuke grimaced. “You can’t blame me for that one so much. I stepped on a broken flask some jerk left near the path.”

“Is that why you were so easy to catch up to today?”

Yosuke grimaced. “Nah, I’ve healed since then. This time it was because I scrambled away so quickly that I landed too hard on my forepaws.” He flexed his paw. “It hurts a little bit, but it’ll probably be fine.”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek, humming contemplatively. “Do you want me to look it over and make sure you didn’t sprain something?”

Yosuke froze for a moment before shaking his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m good. I’ll be fine,” he reiterated.

“Just so long as you’re sure,” Souji said.

Yosuke nodded several times in quick succession. “Yep, I’m definitely sure. Very, very sure.”

“In that case,” Souji said, dusting off their trousers as they stood, their tunic bunching up uncomfortably at the sudden movement, “we should be getting back.”

“Back?” Yosuke asked, staring up at Souji in bewilderment. “What do you mean ‘back’?” His forehead wrinkled in bemusement. “What do you mean ‘we’?” His face brightened in realization before scrunching up in distaste.

“Oh no, oh no. I told you about why I did what I did, and you don’t seem to be stabbing me yet, so I have high hopes yet, but I think it’d be a much better idea if I just walked away right now.  I mean, you’d never have to deal with me again! That’s a definite bonus!”

“What would I tell the Konishis then? ‘I had a rather enlightening discussion with your tormentor and discovered that he is in fact a misunderstood recluse’? No,” Souji shook their head, “If you’re sorry, you’re going to make it clear that you are. I’m not letting you leave until you apologize to the town.”

Yosuke shook his head even more emphatically, panicked. “Souji, I cannot tell you just how bad of an idea that is.  People don’t react well to a wolf-boy telling them he’s sorry for scaring them. I’ll be killed!”

“You won’t be killed,” Souji said, crossing their arms, “I’d make sure of that.”

“Because you’re obviously capable of holding onto your sword for longer than five seconds,” Yosuke replied acerbically, glancing pointedly at the borrowed sword that still lay on the ground.

Souji stared down at Yosuke, refusing to be cowed. Yosuke stared back, challenging, before his glare melted in wake of a distressed whine.

“Please don’t make me do this,” he pleaded. “Can’t I just write an apology out and have you deliver it?”

“Yosuke, are you really sorry?”

Yosuke looked down at his paws, scratching anxiously at the dirt. “Yes,” he answered.

“Do you want the Konishis to know that you meant well and that you are sorry?”

“Yes,” Yosuke mumbled.

“Then you need to apologize,” Souji concluded, holding their hand out to lift Yosuke up.

Yosuke eyed their hand apprehensively before accepting it, sighing. “Can I at least have time to prepare myself? It’s been a long time since I’ve talked to people, and I want to make sure that I say what I mean to say so that they don’t hate me as much.”

Souji pulled him up, huffing at the unexpected weight. Once they were righted, they considered his request for a long moment.

“Yes,” they said, “I think we can manage that much.”

Yosuke looked at them in something close to disbelief. “What? Aren’t you going to say something about how I’m ‘not getting out of it that easily’ and how you just know I’ll skip town when you’re not looking?”

“No.” Souji smiled at him before turning around to pick up their borrowed sword and sheath. “I trust you to do the right thing.”

Tossing that remark into the air with the blasé air of one commenting on the weather, Souji began to walk away. They paused a moment, turning so that they could see Yosuke’s stunned expression. “That doesn’t mean I won’t come back to check on you, though. “

Yosuke’s countenance quickly morphed into one of affront. “I’m not a kid, you know!”

“You don’t have to be a kid to need supervision,” Souji called as they walked away, “otherwise you might do something like dragging carcasses to strangers’ houses or something.”

The last thing they heard before sighting the path to the estate once more was Yosuke’s yowls about low blows.

 

* * *

 

 

Where before the estate’s yard had been empty of all besides the cow’s cadaver, it was now bustling with people. Clumps of people had formed very distinct groups around the property, but they still kept close together, obviously frightened. One group sat next to the unconscious Mayumi, who had apparently been removed from the estate without much difficulty.

The only exception existed in the children, who ran around freely, bellowing about tag and chasing one another. Occasionally, an adult would go to corral them, holding one or another close to their chest in apprehension. This was likely the reason none of them approached the dead cow, covered in sackcloth as it appeared to be.

In the middle of it all stood Saki Konishi. She was nodding at something the healer was telling her, her brow furrowed in thought, when she spotted Souji. Gesturing across the property, she spoke to the healer once more before heading towards Souji.

“Where have you been?” Saki asked as soon as she had crossed the distance between them; worry contorted into frustration as she took in the fact that Souji was apparently uninjured. “I thought that something had happened to you. The healer said that you were supposed to be here before she arrived.”

Souji opened their mouth, but could not think of a suitable response. Luckily, none was required.

Glancing at Souji’s hands, Saki spotted the sundered belt on which the sheath of the borrowed sword hung. Souji had been carrying the sheath with the belt wrapped around their hands; however, it only then occurred to them that it might have been a more intelligent decision to tie it around their waist.

“Did you run into th—“ A child, no more than nine years of age, toppled to the ground nearby. Their surprised exclamation cut Saki short. She pressed her lips together.

“Did you run into any trouble?”

Souji nodded. “The kind with teeth.”

Saki stiffened in response, but managed a grim sort of smile. “Many kinds of trouble come with their own kinds of teeth, I’m afraid. I’m glad you seem unharmed, even if the sheath isn’t.”

Souji eyed her unsurely. “You realize that I am speaking of the-“

“Yes, Souji, I realize what you’re talking about. I also understand that you are talking about it out in the open while I’m trying to keep kids from poking a corpse with sticks and getting themselves into further traumatizing situations.”

Souji scuffed the ground with their heel, ducking their head. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Saki smiled a little more genuinely, even if her eyes remained tired. “It’s all right. You are okay though? You’re not hiding some injury?”

“I’ve been trained well enough that that isn’t a possibility.” Souji shook their head. “I’m alright. In fact, I think we can safely classify the… problem I faced as low priority from now on.”

Saki heaved a relieved sigh. “That’s good.” Tensing, she pressed her lips together. “I don’t mean to offend, but I really could do without seeing proof right now. I’m grateful, but I really don’t need to see any more evidence of violence today.”

Souji’s face scrunched up in confusion before they realized the implications of her statement. “Actually, that’s not quite what I—“

“Where were you with those smelling salts? I realize you young people have agendas of your own, and I respect that, but I sent you ahead for a reason!” Before Souji could explain what they meant, the healer interrupted, her hands on her hips.

“Not that it matters,” she fretted, “the poor dear won’t wake up no matter what I do. Terrible, terrible thing, that’s what it is.” Healer Shiroku shook her head. “Everything seems normal. Mayumi’s breathing is better than I could have hoped for someone who’s been strangled half to death; much less someone who’s been inhaling that corrupted city air for who knows how long.” She patted Souji’s arm, apparently taking in their overcome expression and interpreting it as affront. “No offense meant to you of course. I’m sure you must find good in that place. Somewhere, anyway.”

Saki looked distressed, but less so than Souji would expect. She had likely heard the healer’s account before they had arrived. “There is one strange thing,” Saki intoned, her voice cracking but once.

“Oh, yes.” Healer Shiroku shook her head. “Mayumi’s eyes have been moving constantly, despite being asleep for only a short time. It is strange, to be sure.”

Souji remembered the way her eyes had darted back and forth when they first examined her body. It was just as strange then as it seemed an hour later.

“Do you know how long she might be uncons—“

“Souji!”

Souji turned around, startled at the sound of their name. Heading towards them was the imposing figure of their uncle, a troubled look on his face.

“I heard something about someone being attacked, so I made my way up here as soon as I could.” Dojima turned to Saki. “Is it true that Mayumi was strangled?”

Saki nodded, looking more and more like she was losing her ability to stay calm.

Dojima’s expression softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. You’re a good kid.”  He sighed. “Does her family know?”

“Yes. Th-they’re over there,” Saki said, gesturing to the group by Mayumi that Souji had spotted earlier.

Dojima nodded, frowning at the sight. “Poor girl. First that nonsense with the scandal, and now this.”

Healer Shiroku tutted. “A crying shame, it is. I suppose you want to know the extent of her injuries, Constable?”

“Yes, please,” Dojima said. He hesitated, looking at Souji, “but first I need to talk to my nephew.”

Shiroku waved a hand. “Ah, well. Miss Konishi and I will just discuss a few things ourselves, then. Come along, dear.” She made her way to the comparative shade of a nearby tree, tugging at Saki’s arm.

Dojima sighed. “I’m sorry, Souji. I had no idea something like this would happen while you were here. I swear this town used to be peaceful.” He chuckled, a bit bitterly.

“It’s alright, Dojima,” Souji said, “it’s my job to be prepared for things like this.”

Before they even finished speaking, Dojima was shaking his head. “No, your job is to cope with the monsters— the creatures that the rest of us aren’t prepared for. Humans, no matter how dark their hearts, are my problem.” He crossed his arms. “That’s why I’m telling you to go back to the house.”

Souji moved their mouth to speak a few times, but it wasn’t until a few moments had passed that they were able to say, “I’m sorry, but what do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said. You’ve done your job for today, but it’s time for me to do mine.” Dojima held up a hand as Souji opened their mouth to object. “Souji. You have a broken sheath in your hands, there’s a corpse covered in sackcloth in full view of toddlers, and a woman has been attacked. Please, just leave me with a little peace of mind and stay with Nanako tonight.”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek. After a pregnant pause, they nodded.

“Thanks,” Dojima sighed. “I’ll try to be back at the house by midnight.”

“Alright,” Souji answered, quietly. They bid farewell to their uncle, handing him the borrowed sword to return to Saki, and left.

The woods seemed more subdued on the way back.

 

* * *

 

 

When Souji opened the door to the house, Nanako’s expression was bewildering. Her wide grin at the sound of the opening door diminished greatly at the sight of Souji. She looked down at the table before her from where she sat on the floor.

The answer to Souji’s unasked question was forthcoming, however. “I thought you were Dad,” she offered. “Welcome back.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Souji returned. They crossed the room, setting their bag on the table.

Upon sitting down, they had a clearer view of what Nanako was doing. A leaf of paper was spread out under her right hand, her left busy sketching an outstretched wing. Rather than decorated with feathers, the sketch depicted a leathery membrane hung over a framework of bony spines.

Souji sat back, considering their cousin thoughtfully. “I would have thought that you didn’t like monsters.”

Nanako peered up at them before shaking her head. “I’m not scared of monsters. They only make Dad tired because he’s worried about me. People are worse because they keep him away, and they’re the ones that I know can hurt him. Monsters haven’t done anything to hurt me. People…”

She huffed. “Well, you know what people do.”

Humming, Souji nodded. “You’re smarter than I was when I was nine. For some reason I got it into my head that I needed to be able to fight monsters instead.”

“Dad says it’s ‘cause the people who become knights are the ones who want to think people are good. He said that he sent you the letter because ‘even cynical bastards can see when they need an optimist around’.” She giggled. “He also said I should forget that he said that, but it’s not my fault if I’m too good at remembering stuff.”

Souji found themself smiling. “Thanks, Nanako.”

She smiled at them and continued sketching. After a moment, Souji spoke again.

“I have a book with a bunch of illustrations of monsters in it. Would you like to use it for reference?”

If anything about that day had been good, it was the expression on Nanako’s face at that moment.

 

* * *

 

 

**“The strangest idea that humans have conceived is that of opposites.**

  **“If night is truly the opposite of day, why is it that birds continue to fly no matter what time it may be?**

  **“If death is the enemy of life, why does a cadaver make for such fertile soil in ages to come?**

  **“If a lie is the reverse of the truth, then how do you continue to combine them to further your point?**

  **“If everything has an opposite, then what is the opposite of a human? Tell me this, and perhaps I will understand.”**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if I didn't quite capture Old Lady Shiroku's voice but I really... just have no idea what she acts like. I didn't spend much time bonding with her. 
> 
> In other news, Souji’s talked more in this chapter than they have in all the other ones combined, I think.
> 
> Yosuke has that effect.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souji Should Know Better By Now and Other Tales to Tell in the Dark

The gaol looked different in the light of day. Light from the east-facing window illuminated the weary space, transforming each mote of dust into a glowing spark, that floated through the air. It was a long way from appearing cheerful, but it looked a little less sinister.

Perhaps, Souji mused, it was merely that the threat of death at the hands of a wild beast had passed from their mind, replaced with images of a werewolf sulking in the woods.

No, they corrected themself. That couldn’t be the case— not while an attempted murderer was still free to roam. Dojima’s face was as solemn as ever, thanks to that contributing factor.

“Did you find any new evidence?” Souji asked, their eyes pinned to the windowsill, but their attention on their uncle.

Dojima rubbed at the bridge of his nose, huffing out a grunt of displeasure. “No. Nothing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Saki was the first person to enter Mayumi’s room that day.” He sighed. “This would be so much easier if Mayumi would wake up. Healer Shiroku has been working nonstop to determine why she’s still unconscious, but it’s harder for her without Naoki there to help.”

“Naoki?” Souji turned to look at their uncle, the name ringing a faint bell.

“Saki Konishi’s brother. He has a healing ability, and he apprenticed himself to Healer Shiroku sometime last fall.” Dojima ran a hand through his hair, huffing out a faint breath. “It might have been early winter, actually. Whatever the case, he’s been on a trip to gather supplies for the past three days, and he won’t be back for another two.”

Souji hummed in understanding. “Is that why his parents weren’t at the estate yesterday?”

Dojima’s brow wrinkled in bemusement before he made a sound of understanding. “No, they were bartering down at the market yesterday.” He shook his head. “There might be a monster about, but see if that stops a Konishi. I’ve told Naoki to find an escort at least three times a month, but the kid keeps ignoring me in favor of romping about in the woods by himself.”

Recalling Yosuke’s apparent fondness for the Konishis, Souji had to fight to keep from smiling at the absurdity of the situation. “I think Naoki will be just fine.”

Dojima sighed. “I hope so. He can run his mouth a bit much, but he tries to help in whatever ways he can.”

Souji shifted, tapping a tattoo into the bench beneath them. “Mayumi’s condition is stable enough that his presence isn’t urgent though, right?”

Dojima’s breath left him in a weary exhalation, deflating the man. “I don’t know if stable’s the right word for it. She’s still unconscious, but sometimes she’ll murmur the odd incomprehensible syllable or two. Poor girl seems to be trapped in some kind of nightmare.”

Souji grimaced, fog and shadowy branches flickering in their mind’s eye.  “That doesn’t seem pleasant.”

“I agree with you there,” Dojima said, his expression darkening. “You have to wake up from dreams eventually— especially the nightmares. If you don’t, they consume you.”

Silence ruled over the room for a moment. An impassive monarch, it allowed its subjects to muse in peace before its reign was cut short with the sound of a throat clearing.

Souji snapped into the present at the sound, startled.

“I noticed that you were putting together a few supplies earlier. Are you planning on searching in the woods today?” Dojima asked.

“Something like that, yes,” Souji answered, withholding the fact that they planned to sit in the middle of a clearing with a hunk of aromatic meat until Yosuke appeared.

“Well, I was just… I assume that you haven’t visited many of the shops yet, and I wanted you to know that you’re free to use our food, tools, anything as long as you need it,” Dojima said.

After a pause in which they were at a complete loss for words, Souji stammered out a, “thank you, Dojima. That means a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” Dojima mumbled. “Don’t mention it.” He slapped his legs with his hands before standing. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer than I have already. Good luck today, Souji.”

“You too,” Souji offered. They sat where they were for a moment, biting the inside of their cheek while mentally running through their agenda for the day. The heavy clunk of the door closing made them startle, but they made no other movements for a long while. Finally, after having everything neat and organized in their mind, they stood. Hopefully their day would be far less exciting than the previous one.

 

* * *

 

Saki caught them halfway across the lawn of the estate.  

“Souji? Is that you?”

Souji stiffened before attempting to return to a casual posture that would make them seem like someone who wasn’t about to sneak off into the forest to rendezvous with a werewolf.  They turned around, trying to smile.

“Yes. Yes, that is Souji,” they winced. ‘I mean, yes, that’s me. I was just going to scout out the woods again,” they said, gesturing to the line of trees with their thumb.

Saki’s brow wrinkled. “Ah. I thought you had taken care of the beast. I must have misunderstood.” She sighed. “I suppose it would be a bit too optimistic to expect instantaneous results like that, wouldn’t it?”

Souji pressed their lips together, trying their hardest to preserve a lack of expression. It was difficult to do so while running through a mental recollection of the various creatures they’d subdued in less time than that— with the help of their team, anyway.  “Optimism isn’t always a bad thing,” they offered.

“It can lead to quite a bit of trouble though,” Saki responded, the words ringing with a kind of bitter resignation.

Souji frowned. “What do you mean?”

Saki shook her head. “Forget it. It’s just me being depressing.” She shrugged, her mouth quirking up. “I seem to be doing that a lot, recently.”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing your perspective, depressing or not,” Souji said. “Even the depressing thoughts get a little less tiring when they’re let out for a bit.”

Saki looked at them in surprise. “That… Well, that makes sense. Thank you, Souji.” She paused for a moment, appearing to gather her thoughts. “It’s just that, lately, it seems like you can only trust that things will all work out for so long before it starts to hurt other people.” She bit her lip, thinking. “You can think that business will prosper all you want, but unless you do something to make it boom, it won’t work.” Saki pulled at her sleeve and shook her head. “I mean, you could say that the sun will shine tomorrow, but if it rains, you’ll be left without any protection. There’s nothing you can do to change things sometimes, and acting like you can is just, well, pointless. That goes double for when it gets in the way of preparing for what will actually happen.”

Souji hummed, considering her words.  “That makes sense,” they admitted. Their solemn expression was split by a sudden smile in the next instant. “However, I don’t necessarily think that it’s pointless to label everything a loss. Things outside you, like people or nature, those things are hard to be optimistic about because you can’t do much about them.” They bit the inside of their cheek, considering how they might phrase their words. “You said it yourself though— the things that you can work at, the things that are within your ability, deserve at least some measure of belief. I mean, it’s important to know your own limits,” they disclaimed, “but being able to think that maybe you can do this difficult thing is an essential part of actually doing it, don’t you think?”

Saki looked at them for a long moment. “Yes,” she said, seeming to weigh the word in her mouth before she spoke, “you might have a point there. Thank you.” After a moment, she sighed. “Speaking of difficult things that I need to do, I had better get back to work. The account numbers aren’t making any more sense today than they were yesterday.”

“So you were all allowed back into the estate?” Souji asked, gesturing to the building.

“Hm? Oh, yes. After Dojima and a group of volunteers with defense training did a sweep, it was determined that there wasn’t anyone in the building.” Saki’s hands clenched into fists, an angry, if tired, glint in her eyes. “If the person who attacked Mayumi gets away with this, I…” She shook her head.

“They won’t,” Souji asserted.

Saki nodded. “The entire town is out for blood. Whoever did this is as good as captured.” Her stance relaxed, bit by bit. She shook her head once more, this time in a kind of wry amusement. “I shouldn’t be keeping you from your work like this, especially when I have work of my own to do.”

“I didn’t mind the break,” Souji objected.

“Nevertheless, I’ll let you go. I hope your day is productive, Souji.”

“I hope you have a good day too, Saki.”

 

* * *

 

Souji was prepared for a number of scenarios, but none of them included spotting Yosuke before he spotted them.

Yosuke was facing a tree, his hands gesturing expansively before being withdrawn and run through his shock of hair. As Souji drew nearer, they could hear him saying something, although they couldn’t quite make out what.

After drawing as near as they thought they could manage, Souji took a moment to understand just how odd watching someone talk to a tree actually was. They made a note to appreciate the fact that Saki did not retreat moments after seeing them for the first time.

Shaking their head, Souji announced their presence. “It’s a miracle that you’ve gone so long without being found. This makes, what, twice now that I’ve found you associating with foliage?”

Yosuke was on his feet in a moment, shifting his forearms to ready himself to flee before he realized who was speaking. Straightening indignantly, he sniffed. “I can camouflage myself quite well when I need to! You’ve just kind of caught me off guard. Both times.”

Souji nodded, shrugging. “You’re right. You can’t be on guard all the time. I’m sorry for implying that you should be.”

Yosuke squinted at them, his ears flicking back. “You’re being weirdly agreeable today. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“I’m usually like this,” Souji defended, bewildered. “I don’t try to be objectionable, you know.”

Yosuke crossed his arms and shot them a skeptical look before shrugging. “Fair enough. I guess neither of us was prepared to have a conversation last time.” He grinned. “That doesn’t mean I don’t get to hold that name thing against you, though. Gods, that was hilarious.”

Souji flushed. “Say what you want, but I’m not the one who was talking to a tree a moment ago.” They were simply the one talking to a tree the previous day, they thought.

It was Yosuke’s turn to redden. “I was practicing! I wasn’t trying to communicate with it!”

“Practicing what?”

Yosuke grimaced. “Introductions, I guess? It’s been a while since I’ve had to apologize to someone, and I thought that introductions were kind of an important foundation for that.”

“That’s definitely true,” Souji mused. “Perhaps the bit where I chased you with a sword and you were exposed to smelling salts might have been avoided if we had just introduced ourselves. Although, the portion of events where you revealed that you were responsible for terrorizing the townsfolk might have transpired quite a bit differently.”

“We might have even avoided sitting in the stickiest sap I’ve ever touched. Just imagine that,” Yosuke drawled.

“But the experience stuck with you,” Souji intoned, watching for his reaction.

Yosuke’s expression was blank for a moment before he brought one paw up to his mouth, shielding it even as muffled laughter bubbled up and shook his frame. “You can’t do that with such a straight face! Gods! That’s not fair.”

“It’s a gift,” Souji admitted. They watched Yosuke as he continued to laugh before plopping down on the ground. “So, why is introducing yourself to a tree upsetting you?”

A more somber cast settled on Yosuke’s features as he considered the question. Crouching, he settled a bit awkwardly on the ground across from Souji. “It’s not so much upsetting as it is difficult. It’s hard to remember customs sometimes. That’s all.”

Souji nodded, wincing. “I can understand that much.”  Interactions with people could easily sour if someone said the wrong thing, and that could occur in comparatively harmless conversations. Complex ceremonies and introductions only furthered the difficulties. Even the ceremony in which Souji was knighted was needlessly complicated, and it was a mass graduation of sorts.

“Oh yeah?” Yosuke eyed them with interest. “Are there a few customs you forget often?”

Souji nodded. “I’m supposed to introduce myself to people by pulling out my sword and saying, ‘I offer you my service and my steel’.” They shrugged. “Instead, I usually just ask people if they need help. It gets things done more quickly, and it doesn’t make them feel as awkward.”

Yosuke’s brow crumpled in thought. “Wait, I’ve heard of that before. Mom said something about it.”

Souji hummed, looking away. “Oh?”

“Yep. Let me think. When someone takes out their weapon and offers to help you…” Yosuke trailed off, his ears flicking in agitation. He brought his paw up to his face, morphing it into a hand as it rose so that he could rub at the bridge of his nose. Just as quickly, it dropped to his side and changed back. His tail started wagging. “I got it! Knights! Knights do that.”

“That we do,” Souji answered.

Yosuke grinned. “I can’t believe I remembered that! It’s been a long time since I had to learn this stuff.” He cocked his head, squinting at them. “You’re really a knight?”

“I was only knighted recently,” Souji admitted, “but that doesn’t make me any less of one.”

“Huh.” Yosuke examined Souji, eyeing them speculatively, “I guess that explains why you felt the need to chase me around with a sword,” Yosuke said.

“Speaking of which,” Souji started, their face screwing up in confusion, “you don’t seem too concerned with my occupation for someone who obviously knows how to disarm someone with a sword and sheath.”

“I don’t have a problem with occupations, generally,” Yosuke said, sniffing, “but I do object to being stabbed, sliced, beheaded, cut, speared, or otherwise mortally wounded. It’s not a fun time.”

“Fair enough,” Souji said.  The two sat in silence for a moment, the quiet interrupted only by the chirp of birds. Souji lifted their face to the sky, squinting into the sunlight. They took a deep breath, and then exhaled.

“Yosuke, now that I think about it, our introduction wasn’t very formal. If you really require a review, we could practice introducing ourselves again.”

Yosuke snorted. “Are we starting over to erase the sword incident? Because I don’t think I’m over that.”

Souji rolled their eyes, smiling despite themself. “No, I promise it’s just a more formal and further expanded restatement of facts.”

Yosuke hummed, an answering smile forming on his face as well. “Alright, then. Let’s give it a try.” He laughed. “If we’re going to do this, we better do it right. You have to do the sword thing.”

Souji grimaced. “Fine. I warned you though, it can be really awkward.” They shrugged. “But if you say so.”

“Alright.” Yosuke sprung to his feet, looking determined. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Amused, Souji took their time in standing. “Do you want to go first?”

Yosuke hesitated for a moment before nodding emphatically. “Yeah. Here I go.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “My name is Yosuke Hanamura. I’m nineteen years old, have limited shape-shifting abilities, and use he, him, and his pronouns. It’s nice to meet you.”

Souji flashed him a thumbs up before answering. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Yosuke. My name is Souji Seta. I am also nineteen years of age; however, I have no known magical abilities and use they, them, and their pronouns. I serve as a palfrey knight under the house of Amagi. So long as this honor may bind me, I  offer my service and my steel.”

“My name is Teddie!”

Souji and Yosuke reeled back at the sudden appearance of the massive creature before them. Its bulk was a dark blue, covered by what looked to be a glaringly red suit with a white stripe down the middle, like a knight’s crest. Most striking of all was its face, which had the quality of a painted mask— the sort one would find in a play or being used by a bard. Overall, the image it presented was that of a cartoonish bear, with tiny ears perched atop its massive curved head. Clasps seemed to fasten its head to its body.

Within a few moments of seeing it, Souji determined that it was either the worst or best masquerade they had ever seen. Their hand was gripping their bag tight, and their heart was beating out a distressed rhythm; however, Yosuke seemed to be faring far worse.

Yosuke had attempted to escape and had tripped over himself in the process. Whimpering turned to growling as he appeared to realize he was in no danger. “I just lost a good ten years of my life,” he managed. “Holy shit. I’ve had it up to here,” he gestured, cutting the air at his chest, “with people popping out of the blue and trying to make me die of shock. My hair’s probably white by now.”

“Look on the bright side,” Souji managed, “You might actually have a reason to dye it now.”

“Hey! You’re one to talk. There’s no way that that’s your natural col—“

“I didn’t mean to scare you!” The person in the bear costume interrupted Yosuke, waving their arms. “I’m beary sorry!”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be the first one.” Yosuke sighed, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “Why don’t we just invite every single person in town to gawp at me?”

“It seems like they just wanted to introduce themself, Yosuke.”

The person in the bear costume had been bowed over in what appeared to be an expression of negative emotion, but straightened at this. “That’s right. Like I said before, I’m Teddie!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Teddie,” Souji said. “I assume that you overheard our introductions?”

“Of course!”

“I get it,” Yosuke grumbled, “you need a moment to take in the existence of a person who can shape shift, but you just immediately accept the person in the bear costume. I see where I stand.”

Souji shrugged, smiling. “It’s a well-made costume?” They ventured.

“It’s not a costume!” Teddie clenched their mitten-like fists. “I told you, I’m Teddie!”

“We get it,” Yosuke said. “You’re Teddie. That still doesn’t explain why you’re running around in a costume.” Shaking his head, he walked around them, eyeing the clasps attaching the head to the body of the costume.

Souji frowned. “Yosuke, you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to—“

Souji was wrong. Yosuke was indeed about to do just what Souji hoped he wouldn’t. Yosuke unfastened the clasps at the back of Teddie’s neck, thankfully without pulling them apart completely.

A moment later, the head was flipped and dangling from the clasps on Teddie’s front. It made an unnerving picture, but it would not have been quite as terrifying if anyone had seemed to inhabit the void within the suit.

“Hey! Put it back!” Teddie protested, scrabbling to perch their head atop their body.

Souji rubbed at the bridge of their nose, attempting to resolve the various unformed thoughts running through their head. They weren’t quite sure if this was the strangest thing to occur this week.

Yosuke, meanwhile, had bounded to the tree furthest away from Teddie, his tail tucked and ears back.

Teddie looked at him, distressed. They clasped their hands. “Am I really that scary?”

“I don’t know if scary is the right word,” Souji hedged. “It’s just a little shocking to find out that you’ve met someone who seems to invisibly inhabit…” They fought to recall any scenario that would aid them in describing Teddie, “ an enchanted suit?”

Teddie balled up their fists once more. “I told you! This isn’t a costume—I’m Teddie!”

“I’m sorry, Teddie,” Souji apologized. They reached out to pat them reassuringly; however, the gesture knocked the bear onto their back.  Souji winced.

“Okay, that was my bad as well. Sorry.”

“Ouchie,” Teddie whined, climbing to their feet. “Why is everyone attacking me?”

Yosuke, who had slowly made his way back to Souji and Teddie, shifted his weight. “Sorry about that, Teddie. You kind of caught us by surprise.” He wrinkled his nose, his ears flicking. “Where did you come from, anyway?”

“I—” Teddie began with a confident air, but deflated as they continued. “I don’t know.” They brightened. “I do know why I’m here though! You,” they pointed to Souji, “opened a contract!”

Souji froze. “How, exactly, did I manage that?” Internally, they began to curse. They had assumed that talk of contracts, social or otherwise, had ceased at the moment they graduated. They had been glad to see the last of Professor Igor’s imposing desk, laden as it was with magically binding quills and parchment.

Teddie clasped their hands together. “It’s simple! The oath to serve Yosuke and me is binding as soon as introductions are finished and we state our acceptance. Magic is simple that way.”

Teddie cleared their throat. “So, I accept your offer.”

All three of them were silent for a moment.

Yosuke proceeded to break the quiet. “Did you just sell your soul to a hollow bear with a carnival mask?”

Souji wiped at their eyes with the palms of their hands, rubbing at their face. “So it would seem.”

Yosuke considered them. “Do these things happen to you often?”

“I think this week is just the exception. An emotionally and mentally exhausting exception.”

“I’m not going to force them to help me forever,” Teddie objected. “I just need their help.”

“Why do you require my aid?” Souji asked, defeated.

Teddie brightened at this response before attempting to assume a solemn expression. Dropping their voice so that Souji had to strain to hear them, they said, “Something is about to happen.”

“Something?” Souji asked, confused. “What kind of something?”

Teddie looked solemn. “I don’t know. I just know that the shadows have been getting agitated, and they only do that before something bad happens.”

Yosuke looked agitated. “Something bad like what?”

Teddie looked down at their feet once more. “Like death,” they mumbled, “something bad like death.”

Souji’s heart came to a standstill for a moment. “Are you talking about the attempt made on Mayumi’s life?”

Yosuke turned to Souji, his face paling. “Wait a moment. Someone was attacked? Someone was attacked with _deadly force_?”

Souji nodded, not taking their eyes off of Teddie.

Teddie gesticulated wildly. “That’s it exactly! Probably, I mean. I’m a bit unclear on the details.”

“How unclear, exactly?” Yosuke asked, crossing his arms.

“Well… Have you seen a glass after rocks hit it?”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek, trying not to become aggravated. “Is there anything more you can tell me? I thought that a person had attacked Mayumi.”

Teddie shook their head helplessly, although it looked rather more like they shifted their weight from side to side. “All I know is that what happened the first time will happen again, and soon.” More quietly, they added, “Shadows are shadows, but that doesn’t mean they’re not people.”

Yosuke made a low sound in his throat, his ears flicking in unease. “That doesn’t make sense! Shadows are people? What kind of advice is that?” His tail began to move in tight, agitated circles.

“I’ve told you all I can,” Teddie defended.

“Well, it’s not much to go on,” Yosuke said. He crossed his arms.

“It will have to do.” Souji asserted, glancing at Yosuke. “Thank you, Teddie.”

Teddie straightened. “You’re welcome!”

“I’m still confused,” Yosuke objected. “You said you don’t know where you came from— so how come you know so much about this bad thing?”

Teddie waved their arms. “I told you, I don’t know!” They folded in on themself. “I just know about the shadows.”

Yosuke and Souji exchanged a long look before Souji sighed. “It can’t be helped, I suppose.”

“Are you kidding me, Souji? A shifty-looking bear asks you for help, and you just go with it?”

Souji shook their head. “I made a verbal contract to help, so I have to help stop this ‘bad something’.” Before Yosuke could object, they continued with,“So, I suppose I had better prepare for whatever this… something is.” Souji said, picking up their bag from where they dropped it.  “You two can keep each other company in the mean time, I suppose.”

Yosuke shot them an expression that screamed betrayal, whereas Teddie seemed delighted.

“Yosuke, you told me yourself why you can’t go into town right now,” Souji reasoned.

Yosuke squinted at them. “One day, I will get back at you for this.”

“I’m broadening your horizons.”

“I sleep in the forest. My horizons are interrupted by trees, and I like them that way.”

“Look, that’s one thing you have in common with Teddie already, apparently.”

Yosuke glared at Souji, pouting with all the ferocity he could muster. Souji shrugged. There wasn’t much that they could do.

Stalking away, Yosuke proceeded to settle down beneath a tree far from both Teddie and Souji, pointedly facing away from them.

“Sleep well!” Souji cried. Yosuke’s ear, flicking in Souji’s direction, was the only sign that he had heard.

Teddie eyed Souji for a long moment. “I’ll take care of him, but you should remember: it isn’t safe to be alone when the shadows are agitated, and it’s worse in the forest. Be careful.”

Souji looked at them in bewilderment before nodding. “Thank you, Teddie.”

“It’s no problem. This is all I can do, after all.” With that, Teddie left, ambling over to Yosuke.

Souji stared after them, more confused than ever.

 

* * *

 

**“Humans have short enough attentions spans that they can say that things have ‘always been this way’.**

**“Do they so easily forget that they made the decision to walk in the sunlight and hide in the darkness?**

**“Do they so easily ignore that they have either shunned or adapted to things they find repugnant?**

**“Humans care little for the truth of yesterday or tomorrow. They care only for the moment in which they live.”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A palfrey is actually the kind of horse that high-ranking knights would ride in medieval Europe. I adapted the word for my purposes in order to suit my arrangement of this fictional country's knights. A palfrey knight is a knight that travels around, using their horse often.
> 
> In other news, I know you've all been longing for your first glimpse of Teddie, but weren't quite expecting them to appear this soon. To that, I must say that Teddie waits for no one. Teddie stares into the face of a word document and proclaims, "There go I!"
> 
> Teddie is a mystery.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Igor is Igor and butter is churned.

Souji had just finished dressing for the day when their room was washed with a warm glow. A glance towards their bags was all that it took to discern the source of the light. Someone was trying to contact them with the scrying glass.

Upon answering, Souji was met with the sight of a disheveled Chie, her hair sticking out in places and her face flushed. She didn’t look happy.

“Professor Igor wants to talk to you,” Chie established before Souji could say a word.  “He said something ambiguous— like he always does, the bastard— and then told me to get you on the mirror.”

Souji worked their mouth for a moment before nodding. “All right. But before you get him—“

“More like I’m bringing you to him. I got a stabilizing charm put on the glass during the last trade fair.”

“Before you pass me off to him, then,” Souji corrected. “I want to know what has you riled up.”

Chie shrugged, her shoulders jerking in a rough movement. “The warmer months are always rough. Ambassadors have started arriving. Same old, same old.”

The background began to shift as Chie started making her way to Igor’s office. Souji had to focus on Chie to keep their bearings.

“Ambassadors?” Souji bit the inside of their cheek before wincing in dismay. “Don’t tell me Yasogami sent Morooka again. Not after last year.”

Chie’s mouth thinned into a displeased slit. “I don’t want to think about him.”

“Chie, pardon me for saying this, but he’s a disrespectful ass.”

Chie let a bark of laughter loose before she muffled it.  “Wow, Souji. Watch the language, would you?”

Souji shook their head. “Chie, I mean it. If he does anything to undermine or belittle you, you should tell your Captain. You should tell the Princess if you have to.”

“No,” Chie snapped. She winced at her own tone, then more gently said, “I mean, no, Souji. Yukiko’s stressed; I’ve told you that a thousand times. I can’t add to that.”

Souji sighed. “She’d want to know. She’s your friend, Chie.”

“She’s the Princess. She’s under constant pressure, and if I added to that I wouldn’t be any kind of friend at all,” Chie fired back. “Let me deal with this.”

Finally, Souji gave in. “Okay,” they said, “but I want you to tell me if he says anything.”

Chie smiled. “Alright, you worrywart.” She shook her head. “I hope you know that I thought you’d stop acting like a parent once our team split and graduated.”

“I would never miss the chance to nag you,” Souji declared solemnly.

“Just my luck,” Chie said, groaning for emphasis. She grinned. “Thanks, Souji.”

“You’re welcome. “

There was a beat of silence before Chie spoke once more. “Here’s the part where I betray you. I’m handing you off to Professor Igor.”

Souji winced. “Alright. It was nice talking to you, Chie.”

“That’s because I’m a delight.” Chie grinned. “Don’t look so worried. You’ll be fine. The worst he can do is grin at you, and make you listen to a philosophy lecture.”

Souji hummed, biting the inside of their cheek. “Yeah,” they admitted. “I’ll make it through.”

“That’s the spirit. Bye, Souji.” With that, there was the sound of a door opening, and Chie stepped into a familiar room. The wall behind her was entirely blue, and Souji knew from experience that the rest of the room was the same.

“Here they are, Professor,” Chie announced.

“Ah, but are they really? Can a representation truly indicate their presence, or is it a mere proxy?” Souji winced. Professor Igor was in a reflective mood today, and that meant his pretentious ramblings would be increasingly cryptic as the conversation progressed.

“Sir, you’ll have to excuse me, but I’m too busy to answer that question properly at this time. I’ll answer you later.” Souji had to stifle their immediate urge to laugh, amused as they were. Chie had never enjoyed lessons with the professor, but her ability to avoid answering his questions was unparalleled.

The glass was a wash of dark blue as Chie’s face was replaced with a view of the ceiling.  

“I expect an answer soon, Miss Satanoka.”  Professor Igor said, even as Souji heard the clunk of the door closing.

“Now then,” he began, picking up the glass. “What are we to do with you, Seta?” He peered down into the depths of the scrying glass, a herculean task considering how far he held it from his face in order to accommodate his long nose.

Professor Igor had always been intimidating, from his shock of white hair and overly formal velvet wardrobe to his elongated nose that resembled nothing less than a fleshy flamberge. This was especially the case when he affixed his sharp gaze upon his students, past, present, or future.

Under the scrutiny of such a stare, Souji had to work to withhold a wince. “Well, I’m not quite sure what the given context for that question is, Professor.”

“Then I shall work to provide the context you need, hmmn?” The Professor chuckled. “You recall, of course, signing a contract with me, yes?”

Souji nodded. “Multiple contracts, I think,” they corrected, a wry twist to their lips. Signing Professor Igor’s contracts always led to memorable consequences. One was unlikely to forget signing them into being.

“Ah, but do you remember the very first contract?”

Souji almost answered in the affirmative, their mouth forming around an, “of course.” Instead, their eyebrows knit together, their mouth shutting.

They could recall greeting Professor Igor, introducing themself, and sitting down. They could recall the basics of what they discussed, the fundamentals of philosophy. They could recall taking a proffered quill and dipping it in ink. They could remember nearly everything about that first meeting, except for the content of the contract set before them.

“What did I sign, Professor?”

Professor Igor smiled, wide and knowing. “Let’s call them terms and conditions, shall we?”

“Terms and conditions of what?” Souji clenched and unclenched their fist, needing the pressure, the comfort of a familiar sensation.

Professor Igor took a moment, considering them. “You had no particular magical talent, making you rather interesting. You were a blank page, so you could be inscribed at any time. You held infinite possibility. What a wonder that was.” The professor shook his head, still smiling. “I merely set conditions regarding how you might use this infinite ability, if it arose. People are not meant to roam about with power equal to the gods’, not without limitations. It makes them fearful.”

As confused as they were throughout the lecture, Souji found themself without words for most of it. They found their words at this attest remark, however.

“Fearful?” they asked. “If someone has the power to protect themself, why would they be afraid?”

“Seta, I am a philosophy professor. I can hardly hand you all of the answers.”

“You’re not giving me any of the answers,” Souji retorted, growing more and more frustrated. “What kind of power are you talking about? What restrictions were set? I can’t do anything if I don’t know anything!”

Professor Igor tapped the side of his nose. “Patience. “ He shook his head. “It is in the very nature of limitations that you will never realize them fully until you have felt out the very boundaries of what you can do.”

Souji closed their eyes. Their mouth worked, nearly clenching, as they tried to formulate an answer. “So you contacted me only to inform me that I may or may not have some inexplicable power that I have no way of using or understanding, while making me aware that you have full knowledge of the situation; however, you haven’t seen fit to divulge any of it. That is what you’re saying?”

Professor Igor smiled. “More or less.”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek, their frustration welling up in their throat and nearly choking them. “Thank you for the assistance,” they bit out.

“You are welcome,” the professor said, still maintaining his pleased expression. “Good luck, Seta. I have complete faith in your abilities.”

With that, the glass dimmed. Souji sat there for a moment, thinking, before they groaned long and low. It wasn’t fair that things were never simple. It wasn’t fair that they were swamped with nonsense from all sides.

Souji took a long moment to sit back, trying to keep their mind clear. Once they had breathed, they reasoned, they could figure things out. They just needed a little room to breathe.

Whether they had been lost in a fog for minutes or longer, Souji couldn’t say, but Nanako’s voice eventually filtered through. Souji had no way of knowing how long she had stood in front of them, but from the concerned look on her face they could venture it had been too long.

“Souji? Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” They shook their head. “Sorry, it looks like I worried you.”

Nanako shook her head in return. “No, no! I was just worried that— I mean I wasn’t worried, but I was thinking that you prob’ly didn’t want me interrupting. So I thought that maybe I wasn’t really being good in talking to you, maybe?” She fidgeted.

“It’s fine, Nanako.” Souji smiled at her. “I was just,” they made a vague gesture, “thinking. Did you want anything?”

Nanako brightened. “Yeah! Dad is coming home early tonight, so I wanted to know if we could make something special for dinner.”

Souji took a deep breath. “That sounds like a great idea. What did you have in mind?”

 

* * *

Souji hummed, poking at the iron pot that hung over the fire. They gave a cursory stir to the liquid held within, then straightened.

“Nanako?”

Their cousin looked up from where she was intently churning butter, the pole of the churn moving at a steady pace. “Yes?”

“Can you go look through my pack for a smaller oilskin parcel? There should be a few packets of spices in there.” They bit the inside of their cheek in thought. “I’ll probably need the one marked ‘C’ and the one marked ‘Cl’.”

Nanako’s eyes grew large, a grin sneaking its way across her face. Just as quickly, however, the expression was replaced by one of concern. “But spice is expensive. You don’t have to waste it, Souji.”

“It’s fine,” Souji said, dismissing her fears, “I indulged myself too much when I found out I’d be travelling, and there was something like a trade fair going on when I left. I’ll certainly get better use out of it here than I would leaving it in my bag.” They smiled. “Go on ahead. It’s really fine.”

Nanako moved towards Souji’s room, but stopped mid-step. “You’re sure?”

Souji nodded. “You said you wanted to make your dad a special meal since he’s going to be home early, right? Then we should pull out all the stops.”

A beat of silence hung in the air until Nanako beamed at them. “Thank you, Souji,” she said, running up to give them a quick hug.

“What did I say? It’s not an imposition.” Souji bent down to pat her on the back, then straightened. “Alright. If you want the stew to taste good, we need to hurry. I have to add the cloves early on.”

“Right,” Nanako affirmed, rushing to go locate the spices.

“Don’t trip, please!”

“I won’t!”

Souji snorted, shaking their head. Eyeing the butter churn, they considered working at it while Nanako found the spices. They had never used one before, but they were sure that the plunging had to be consistent. The issue lay in the details, as most issues did. If Souji were to ruin the butter by accident, they would feel oddly responsible for ruining dinner altogether.

Just as they were beginning to approach the churn, Nanako reappeared. “I think I found the right packets!” She carried them as if they were made of glass, carefully presenting them to Souji.

“Good job,” Souji said, turning the packets over to examine their labels. “I just realized that I didn’t ask you if you could read before I asked you to find them.”

Nanako smiled proudly. “Of course I can read. Daddy taught me, and I go to the schoolhouse when I can. I’m there a lot more than a bunch of others, so I even get to help the teacher explain stuff.”

Souji nodded in understanding. Although the Amagi’s reign had further emphasized education than previous regimes, many kids were just too overwhelmed with work to attend school. “I’m sure you haven’t been condescending about it, either.”

Nanako wrinkled her nose. “What’s condescending?”

“It means that someone acts like they’re better than someone else.” Souji began measuring out the paprika and cloves. “I was saying that I think you’re probably very understanding of kids who can’t come to school very often.”

“Yeah! I’m not condescending.” Nanako shook her head. “They’re busy a lot, so they can’t come to school. People shouldn’t feel bad about being busy.” She nodded to herself. “They shouldn’t.”

“That’s a good view to have of things,” Souji praised.

Nanako walked over to a cupboard, retrieving some kind of mesh. Souji watched the strange proceeding of Nanako separating the buttermilk from the butter out of the corner of their eye.

“It’s a shame that it never keeps long,” Souji said, nodding towards the butter. “I had the luck to make a friend who had the ability to make ice out of thin air. It was a blessing come long trips. There was fresh milk long after the point where you would assume it had spoiled.”

Nanako’s eyes widened. “I wish I could do that,” she said. “I’d make a big box of ice, and whenever it got really hot in the summer I could just sit in it.” She grinned, looking down at the butter she had made. “It’s not that much work to go and get milk from the cows, though. Sometimes people have already milked some and they hand me their extra.”

Souji was about to respond when they heard the telltale sound of the door being opened.

“It sounds like your dad is home, Nanako.” Her face lit up. She placed the butter and buttermilk on the table, and rushed to the door.

“Dad!”

“I am so sorry.”

Souji froze. That was Dojima’s voice, but it was not the tone of someone who was happy to be home early. That was not the voice of someone who was being given a break.

“I am so sorry, Nanako, but your Cousin Souji and I have to go. We probably won’t be back in time for proper dinner.”

Souji turned, their back stiff. They didn’t want to see the face that would accompany this exhaustion, this fear that strained their uncle’s voice. They didn’t want to let go of the breath that was being held captive by their lungs.

When Souji turned around, it was to see their uncle hugging Nanako, his shoulders slumped in something close to defeat.

“It’s okay,” Nanako said, her voice small. “You’re busy.”

“I’m sorry,” Dojima said, a final time. He stood and leveled Souji with a long look.

Wordlessly, Souji walked to their room. It took them too long to fasten their armor, they knew. It took them too long to strap their sheath to their side. Everything was taking far, far too long.

When they exited the room, Dojima was absent from the house.

“He’s outside,” Nanako informed them, noting their roaming gaze. She tried to smile. “Try to come back quick, okay?”

Souji nodded, stepping towards the door. “Okay.”

Dojima began walking almost as soon as Souji stepped out of the house. There was a tense pause before he spoke.

“We’re going straight to the stables. You’re going to need your horse.”

Souji shot him a startled glance, but nodded. “What happened?”

“There’s been another attack,” Dojima said, his voice gruff. “Saki Konishi was strangled in the same way Mayumi was. Like Mayumi, she’s alive, but she isn’t waking.”

Souji felt something like shock, but swallowed it. They could register the loss later. “I thought you wanted me to stay out of Mayumi’s case.”

“That was when I thought she was attacked by a human,” Dojima bit out. “Someone saw the beast fleeing the scene this time. We’re fighting a damn demon.”

Souji nearly felt their heart stop beating. Yosuke wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hurt the Konishis.“By beast you mean—”

“The evil thing that’s been attacking the cows. Naoki came home this morning from his trip, went to tell his sister he was home. He saw that thing change from something human into a gods damned wolf, fleeing from the scene.” Dojima shook his head. “I should have known the killing wouldn’t end with the cows. Gods. I should have known better.”

Yosuke wouldn't. Unless... unless Yosuke had been lying all along. Souji remembered the way he had seemed so reticent to actually apologize. They remembered the way he had dodged questions until enough time had passed for him to devise a story. _Yosuke_ wouldn't attack Saki, but the Yosuke Souji knew was nothing more than a façade. He didn't exist.

Souji’s face hardened, their teeth gritting and brows furrowing. “No," they said, "You’re not the one responsible. You couldn’t have done anything.” But I could have, they thought, and I didn’t.

They wouldn’t make that mistake again.

 

* * *

**“Humane is such an ugly word. People describe things as humane or inhumane as if quantifying them as more or less human will make them more or less agreeable.  It’s disgusting.”**

**“Can a human not kill another human? Do they not do this all of the time? Is cruelty such a rarity that it can be thrown out as contrary to human nature?”**

**“Of course not. Humane is a synonym for hypocritical. Nothing more, and nothing less."**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update this time, but hopefully I'll get the next one out soon.
> 
> In related news: I can't believe it took 20k to get to the plot. 20,000 words. Why.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Souji fights a frog

“Are you telling me that absolutely no one considered the implications of them sleeping like this?”

Souji stopped midstride at the sound of strident yelling, causing Izanagi to pull on his lead before turning to them and snorting, offended. Beside them, their uncle winced.

“I see Naoki’s still going at it, then,” Dojima said. “Not that I can blame him. He comes home and the first thing he sees is…” He shook his head, a pained expression on his face.

“What does he mean by ‘implications’?” Souji asked, their stomach heavy and throat tight.

Dojima shrugged, the motion slow and despondent. “I left to find you soon after he started. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Souji pulled tentatively at Izanagi’s lead once more, crossing to the hitching posts quickly. They patted his side absentmindedly, noting in some portion of their mind that the horse had been well groomed in the past few days.

Dojima watched on, waiting until Izanagi was settled to jerk his head towards the wing of the estate from which the yelling had originated. Souji nodded, following their uncle as he trudged onwards.

As they drew closer to the entrance, the nearby gazebo caught the eye, brought into view through a trick of angle and sunlight. It loomed ever larger, a white figure stark against the green. Souji avoided staring at it. A step in that direction would lead to another, their feet carrying them until they reached the path. From there they could only unsheathe their sword and—

They looked away from the gazebo.

The yelling suddenly decreased in intensity, becoming a wordless drone tense and thrumming like some peculiar instrument. Souji could no longer make out distinct words despite being closer to the source. A glance revealed that the open window through which the sound had poured had been shut.

The words hit them once again as soon as Dojima opened the heavy door, the force of them greater for the reprieve.

“—on’t be pretty! You’ve seen Mayumi and what this has done to her within a few days! How could you not have thought about this earlier?” The person speaking, presumably Naoki, nearly vibrated with tension. Across from him stood Healer Shiroku, her face colder than Souji had ever seen it.

Saki’s body lay prone in the middle of the space. Someone had obviously dragged a futon into the foyer rather than move Saki.  

Souji could see clear bruising forming on her neck. Just like with Mayumi, it appeared to be the work of thin fingers.

A flash of memory burst to life: a paw being lifted, changing into a hand so that the person transforming could rub at their nose, and a snarling maw changing into a human face. Souji clenched their jaw.

“We did consider it,” Healer Shiroku said. Her tone was clipped, tired but unyielding. “Do you think I haven’t been trying? Do you think I haven’t tried waking her? Feeding her? Dripping treated water down her throat with a piece of cloth?” She shook her head. “I’m well aware of what’s at risk, Naoki. They’ll starve to death if they don’t wake up. _I know_.” She sighed. “We need more power than what you and I have.”

“What kind of power?” Both healers started at Dojima’s interruption.

“Ah, Constable. You’re ba—“

“Are you the knight?” Naoki interrupted Healer Shiroku, looking past Dojima to glare at Souji.

“I am,” Souji said, nodding. “I offer you my service and my steel.” The memory of how they had last offered those words made them feel dirty, stained with something intangible. Souji felt something in their gut roil and clench.

Naoki glared. “What use is your steel here?” His fists clenched. “It would have been useful when that monster was strangling my sister.” He rolled back his shoulders, looking on with unfocused eyes. “I don’t want your sword unless the beast is dangling off the end,” he bit out, the words spat like a particularly bitter venom.

Souji almost winced.  Dojima made a move to defend them, but Souji shook their head.

“I understand,” they responded, truncating their response. Anything else they could have said weighed too little or too much, and couldn’t force its way through their constricted throat.

“Good,” Naoki said. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, looking as if he was searching for something to say or do.

Instead, Healer Shiroku spoke. “Stasis, Constable. We need someone who can keep a person in stasis.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“In response to your previous question.” Healer Shiroku smiled weakly, pushing the grey hair that had escaped from her bandanna back. “The power we need is the power to stop time for Saki and Mayumi. As it is, they’ll soon starve to death.”

Dojima looked at Naoki, bewildered. “Can’t you heal them?”

“That isn’t how my power works,” Naoki snapped. “I can replace what goes missing, knit broken skin together and such, but I just speed up the body’s work. If they don’t have the energy they need, I’d only kill them faster.” He glared down at the ground. “I can’t do anything.”

“They can’t eat at all?” Souji asked. “What about fluids?”

“I’ve managed to get some water and soup down Mayumi’s throat, but there’s only so much that broth can do. It’s not the same as a real meal,” Healer Shiroku said, shaking her head.

“Where does the closest temporal mage live?” Souji asked.

“Too far away,” Naoki said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Too damned far. Your city, if I’ve heard right.” He cursed. “Doesn’t matter how quickly we get the message to them. It would take over a fortnight to get them here. Maybe if Mayumi hadn’t been the first to go down…” He shook his head and cursed again.

Souji frowned in confusion. “What do you mean by ‘if Mayumi hadn’t been the first’?”

Naoki scowled. “She has the power,” he enunciated the present tense, making a point of it,  “to teleport to safe zones, places she feels comfortable. She also deals in information. She can’t transport people, but she’d be sure to know a few people who could.” He shook his head. “Damn it.”

“I could contact some of my acquaintances in Fenneca,” Souji suggested. “They might know someone who has that ability.”

Naoki eyed them appraisingly. “That might not be a bad idea,” he said slowly, letting each word form in its own time. “In the mean time, the beast is still out there. Hopefully the curse holding Saki and Mayumi under will break when it dies.”

A memory of triangular ears tucked back in embarrassment. Souji’s mouth tightened. “Understood.”

Naoki shifted, looking visibly uncomfortable at Souji’s unexpected formality. Healer Shiroku and Dojima looked bemused as well.

“May I be excused to pursue the beast?” Souji requested quietly.

Dojima stepped closer to them, alarmed. “You’re not thinking of pursuing it alone.”

Souji nodded. “Now that I have Izanagi it should be a simple matter of chasing h—the beast down.”

“It’s attacked two people now, Souji,” Dojima said, his eyebrows drawing together. “This isn’t something you can take lightly.”

“I know that,” Souji responded flatly.

“Then you know that it’s for the best if we work as a unit. This creature is known to take down individuals, not multiple peo—“

“Isn’t that why they have to go alone?” Naoki leveled a long look at Dojima. His jaw still clenched with suppressed emotion, but he seemed to have made an effort to push them aside in order to address the problem at hand.  “It won’t approach two people.  If it’s overconfident it will go after Souji, sword and armor or no, but we can’t expect it to go for two armed fighters. Especially not if it was smart enough to watch for so damn— especially not if it can plan.”

“I’d rather we take longer to catch it than send Souji out to die!”

“Constable, Souji is a responsible young adult,” Healer Shiroku said. “Although I cannot say much for their ability to stay on task,” she added unhelpfully.

“I can’t allow—“

“No. Gods, no.”

A kind of wet, chocked off sound echoed off the walls, freezing everyone within. Naoki’s shoulders rose and stiffened, his face a mask. Dojima grimaced in sympathy. Healer Shiroku shook her head with the slow and sad air of someone telling a child about the death of their first pet.

Souji saw all of this, but did not see the source until it manifested in the form of a figure striding past them. They looked more like Saki than Naoki, but the resemblance was still unmistakable.

They stood over their daughter’s body for a long moment, an expression of horrified dismay frozen on their face. “Naoki,” they said in a voice so small that Souji thought they must be mistaken for a moment, so distraught that they called out for the wrong child. “Naoki,” they repeated, “get your father. Please. Get your father.”

Naoki looked as if he would object for a moment before he nodded.

He began to walk to the door, and as he did, he caught Souji’s eye. He jerked his head at the door, a challenging gleam in his eye, before glancing back at Dojima.

Souji’s uncle was still paying full attention to the figure before him, still crouched over her unconscious daughter.

Souji nodded and slipped behind Naoki as he opened the door and slipped through. The door shut behind them with a thunk. Without a word, they turned away from one another and went their separate ways.

 

* * *

 

 

The trees were too far apart. It felt wrong to search through the woods, their stomach clenched and acid in their throat, when light so easily speared through the canopy. It was too bright, too open and illuminated. It wasn’t a fitting place for betrayal, Souji thought, gripping Izanagi’s reins.

A half-remembered glimpse of another copse of trees, shadowed, swampy, and consumed by rolling fog, flitted through Souji’s mind. It was this that gave them pause.

Righting a wrong did not require a setting. Chie had nearly broken her ankle while fighting a chimera in the middle of a sunny afternoon. Daisuke had snuck out pastries for the team during the heaviest storm of the season. Nature felt no need to obey the moods of a newly made knight with a sword and a crushing sense of guilt.

The sun would shine on, whether it illuminated blood, teeth, or a sword as it slid through flesh.

As Souji neared the clearing where they had last seen Yosu— the assailant, their gut twisted with sickening realization. They had forgotten about Teddie. Worse, they had left Teddie with the assailant, insisted upon it, even.

From the beginning Yo— the assailant had been resistant to the idea of Teddie staying with him. The supervision might have exposed his machinations. Enraged, he might have done something to Teddie, then followed up with the attack on Saki.

Souji’s throat felt tight, and their tongue was thick in their mouth. All of this might have been their fault. If they hadn’t insisted on Teddie staying with him, or let him go free in the first place… if they had done anything at all but what they did then maybe—

A sudden eruption of pain, along with enough force to send them toppling, came out of nowhere. The attack itself was sudden and unexpected, but it was less disorienting than finding themself on the ground. Izanagi had nickered and cantered somewhere to the right when Souji had fallen.

They cursed. Daisuke had been right. Emotions had no place in battle, and yet Souji had let them consume them.

Above them stood Yosuke, a large branch clenched in one hand. Souji couldn’t think of him as a nameless assailant anymore. Not when he looked so much like the person Souji thought was their friend.

Souji tried to roll to the side, attempting to gain distance. Yosuke was on them in a moment, pressing the branch across their chest like a weight. Pinned, they tried to kick upwards in a futile attempt to disarm him.

Yosuke laughed. It was mocking, but genuine. It didn’t sound too dissimilar to the way he’d laughed when they had sat together upon first meeting. It hurt, and it made Souji angry.

They went still, relaxing as if they had given up. Yosuke grinned.

“Given up, have you? Funny, how everyone goes with that option. I shouldn’t be surprised though—after all, you were the one constantly calling for an apology, rather than any _real_ action.” He laughed again. “I’m a bigger fan of running away, myself. Much more effe—“

Souji threw all their force into their right side, unbalancing Yosuke. Startled, he loosened his grip on the branch.

Souji pushed the branch back at him, toppling him to the right, before they tried to roll once more in the opposite direction. Recovering, they crouched into a defensive stance, and tried not to wince at their still-throbbing head.

Yosuke growled. Souji eyed him warily, drawing their sword, and evaluated him as a target. He wore a cuirass that left his stomach exposed, and his red scarf marked his throat clearly.

The detached thought that Souji could easily grab the ends of the scarf and pull until he suffocated to death came unasked. The thought made them ill. It would be a slow death, but almost fitting considering Saki and Mayumi. Souji wouldn’t even need to look him in the eyes, yellow and angry as they were.

Had Yosuke always had yellow eyes?

Souji couldn’t take the time to consider it. Yosuke edged closer, a taunting twist to his smile.

“You can’t outrun me, you know.” He said it as if it was an unrelated fact, something vaguely interesting. “I’m in between you and your horse.”

“I don’t intend to run,” Souji replied, simply.

Yosuke snarled. “Stop underestimating me, damn it!” He made as if to rush Souji when something strange occurred.

A rock, about fist sized, hurtled towards him and hit him soundly on the back of his head. The rock, however, was not the strangest facet of the occurrence. Rather, it was the person who threw the rock.

When Souji had looked to the source of the projectile, they had seen someone who looked eerily similar to the person before them. On top of this, the newcomer was standing next to Teddie.

This was summed up accurately with the phrase then uttered by the doppelganger. “Gods, this is really weird.”

Souji, wholeheartedly agreeing, used the moment of confusion to gain more distance between themself and the yellow-eyed Yosuke.

Teddie, meanwhile, shuffled. “Why are there two Yosukes?”

The new Yosuke was making faces at his counterpart. “ I don’t know, Teddie. Just, please, tell me my hair doesn’t look like that.”

The yellow-eyed Yosuke grimaced at his words. “Oh, dear! What shall I do if my image should be tarnished? My grand total of zero friends will mock me forever. Boo fucking hoo.” He grinned, a fierce, predatory thing.

“Like it matters. I don’t see anyone in the forest besides the single most inept knight of the century and his amazing bear companion. Let’s put up a front anyway, Yosuke. Let’s try to look nice. Let’s make it seem like we’re actually a person who deserves company.” He stepped closer.

The other Yosuke looked like a deer in headlights. “What are you—“

“Let’s pretend other people might actually enjoy our presence. Let’s say that Saki might listen to what we have to say if we apologize. Let’s imagine that the things we say actually have some godsdamned value. That we matter to people.” His eyes flashed. “Because gods know it’s not true.”

“I matter!” The other Yosuke replied, frantic. “I’m only alone because of circumstance. Other people could care about me, they could—“

“But they don’t,” the yellow-eyed Yosuke bit out. “No one does because you’re a coward that hides in the woods. You’re all alone because you isolated yourself. It’s your own fault. No one’s forcing you to be out here. Hell, it’s not even the loneliness that gets to you. You’re too self absorbed for that. You can slump around feeling sorry for yourself when you’re lonely.” He shook his head. “No, it’s that no one gives a damn about you. At the end of it all you’re just a footnote about an uninteresting town with some dead livestock. Maybe you just killed the cows so that you’d get some kind of acknowledgement that you exist, since you’re never going to get any sign that you matter.”

Souji narrowed their eyes. They had no idea what was happening, but they were fairly certain of who the antagonist was.

“You’re hungry for attention, but you’re so useless that you don’t know how to bask in it! You’re so focused on being selfish and protecting yourself that you never even bothered to tell anyone when you found Saki’s body! You just ran away like a scared little boy.”

“Stop it! I was going to get someone… I was going to get Teddie and Souji! I was.”

“You were just running again,” The yellow-eyed Yosuke scoffed. “You didn’t think of them until later.”

“You don’t know anything about me!”

“Of course I do,” the yellow-eyed Yosuke asserted. “I am you. I know every dirty little thought you’ve ever had because I had it too. Like the fact that you were so relieved that someone had seen you, that someone who might actually talk to you, value you, entertain you, had seen you, that you let them catch up to you. I know that you’re pathetic enough that you’d wag your tail for someone who had a sword to your throat because at least they’d be looking at you. At least they’d be breaking the monotony of living for absolutely nothing.”

The other Yosuke whimpered. “Stop it! Stop. What—what are you?”

The yellow-eyed Yosuke laughed, the same mocking laugh that had made Souji’s stomach roil and turn at how similar it sounded to Yosuke’s bark of delight.

“I am you. Don’t you get that?”

“Stop it,” the other Yosuke demanded. “Fucking stop it! You’re not me! You can’t be me.”

The yellow-eyed Yosuke crossed his arms and laughed again. Souji considered pulling on his scarf and strangling him.

“Maybe you’re right. I’d never be this weak or this boring.” He scoffed. “No. I am the shadow—the true self. I don’t need you.”

“What are y—“ The other Yosuke was cut off. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground.

“What did you do?” Souji yelled at the yellow-eyed Yosuke. He didn’t answer.

Instead, he just laughed. He laughed and laughed, and as he did so he began to transform.

Rather than the transition Souji had seen before, however, this one was like a wreath of fog, swirling around Yosuke like another skin that grew larger and larger. The dark fog was like smoke, overpowering even in its tasteless, blinding ambiguity.

As it swirled, Teddie bent over the other Yosuke. Souji raced to their sides. “Teddie, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” They shook their head. “But I think… I think Yosuke’s shadow is attacking.”

“Shadow?” Souji cursed. “You mean that,” they asked, gesturing behind them, “is what attacked Saki and Mayumi?”

“Not really?” Teddie made an ambiguous gesture.  “It’s similar, though.”

Souji turned to look at the shadow.  The fog was solidifying around it, forming a grotesque giant. It looked like a humongous frog with enormous sharp teeth extended from its mouth. A humanoid figure with oversized, reaching hands protruded from its back.

“I would have thought it would be a wolf,” Souji said in a small voice.

“I will destroy you,” the shadow answered.

“I don’t think I can discourage you from trying,” Souji conceded, gripping their sword. Behind them, they heard a soft nicker. It seemed that Izanagi had come back.

However, Izanagi had never spoken aloud before, and the presence at their back certainly had. “I am thou, and thou art me.”

A glowing card appeared in the air, twirling to such an extent that Souji couldn’t quite make out the designs depicted on it. Reaching out, they grasped it in their hand.

It shattered, and Izanagi whinnied.

“Persona,” Souji whispered. It was a name, but also an imperative. They knew that much. They simply had no idea what it meant or what, exactly, the command was. In the next moment, Izanagi cantered ahead with a rider astride his back.

The rider was impossibly huge, and yet they seemed to fit atop Izanagi perfectly. Rather than being taller than them all, they were more imposing. They cut a swath in the fabric of whatever scene they inhabited, making the space accommodate their massive presence.

Their body was covered by a massive coat that billowed out from the back of the horse. Their face was completely masked by steel. Two long swathes of what Souji first thought to be cloth cut through the air, and it was only after a flash of light bounced off of one that they realized they were made of metal, even as they flexed and bent like fabric.

The figure was, in a word, impossible.

Still, Souji pointed on as the rider went forward. Drawing their longsword, they slashed at the shadow before them.

Without quite knowing why, Souji cried out. “Zio!”

The figure circled the shadow as it cried out in rage, and then thrust the sword to the sky. Lightning flashed down and struck the shadow where it stood, although the sky was still clear of clouds.

The shadow cried out again, this time toppling down. The rider brought their sword down upon it in its moment of weakness.

The shadow soon recovered, however, and lashed out, smacking at Souji rather than the rider. Souji put up their sword to catch the hand, but they toppled over with the force of the swat anyway.

“Zio!” They cried again. Again lightning flashed.

Souji was unsure of how long it went back and forth, blows exchanged for blows. All they knew was that as the shadow weakened, Yosuke’s eyelids began to flutter.

When the final blow was dealt, he was nearly fully conscious.

The shadow let out a fierce cry, and then began to shrink. Layer by layer, the fog began to destabilize and melt away from its body until it was once again a mirror of Yosuke.

It shuddered and sat down. Meanwhile, Yosuke began to sit up.

Teddie stared solemnly down at him. “You have to accept it before it gets angry again, Yosuke. It’s part of you.”

Yosuke grimaced. “I… But I really…”

Souji crouched down. “Accepting this part of you doesn’t make you any different from the person you were yesterday. It just means that you know about that part of you now. You’re still yourself.”

“Gods. That’s hard to admit.” Yosuke swallowed hard. “I knew it was telling the truth, I guess. I just didn’t want to be so— I don’t know. Shallow? Pathetic?” He sighed. “I didn’t want it to be me. But it is.  This is me.” He looked at the shadow. “You’re me.”

The shadow looked at him for a long moment before smiling wide. It wasn’t mocking this time. Rather, it seemed to be encouraging.

Another change began to come over it, this time sans the fog. Its limbs lengthened and broadened, and spikes began to sprout from its hands and face. Gigantic eyes peered from the side of its head, split by horizontal red pupils. Its mouth seemed to be situated on its torso, a great bronze grin made up of interlocking teeth. Its neck was wrapped in a long red scarf, cheerily reminiscent of Yosuke himself.

“Jiraiya,” Yosuke whispered.  He then flushed. “Souji, I swear, if you say anything about a resemblance.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Jiraiya hovered for a moment before dissipating. Then, only Izanagi’s rider was left.

They rode up to Souji and dismounted. Standing before them, they looked even more astonishingly colossal.

“I am thou, and thou art me. This is transient, child. The true self can not be fully denied.”

The figure reached out and clasped Souji’s shoulder, then dissipated like Jiraiya before them.

Souji stood there for a long moment, baffled.

“Did either of you understand any of that?”

Unfortunately, they did not receive an answer, as that was the exact moment that a wave of fatigue swept over them, and they promptly fell into a faint.

 

* * *

 

 

**“At your most essential components, are you made of memories and experiences or feelings and thoughts?”**

**“Who is fit to judge whether someone is the same person before and after a experience has irrevocably altered the course of their life?”**

**“Are you the same person with different views, or are you a completely different person?”**

**“When you think such things, are you simply trying to escape the consequences of your own thoughts and actions?”**

**“Who has the right to answer these questions when they all shift uncomfortably and say that there’s no ‘correct’ answer?”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I'd post this chapter early?
> 
> I am so sorry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one is happy

Souji woke to the smell of something burning, and the sound of Teddie complaining loudly. They were sure this would make sense as soon as they could remember why they were unconscious in the middle of the forest.

“Yosuke, that smoke smells. Why don’t you just cut off some of your fur to keep Souji warm?”

“Sure, let me just skin myself for your viewing pleasure,” Yosuke chirped, then, acerbically, “No, Teddie, I’m not gonna peel myself.” He huffed, and there was the sound of wood being thrown onto fire. “It was either use this crap or abandon Souji for a bit. I really don’t think they’d appreciate waking up with us gone, considering… what happened.”

It sounded like the two had been arguing for a while. There was a feeling to the air, a sharp apprehension.

Teddie made a low keening sound. “I could have stayed! I don’t even know what kind of wood we would need.”

“Well, apparently there’s a lot you don’t know,” Yosuke snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. Souji could hear a low growl rip through the night air, accompanied by the sound of a vaguely bear-shaped person stumbling back.

It was quiet for a moment. Tense, too. Souji itched to sit up, to hold their hands up and placate the others, and almost did so.

Before they could, however, Yosuke spoke up again. “Sorry. That came out a lot… That came out a lot worse than I wanted it to,” he said, his voice low. He repeated himself, his voice louder, “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. Today’s just been,” he laughed, and Souji couldn’t tell if there was humor in the sound, “today’s just been messed up.”

Souji felt like they were frowning. They couldn’t be sure— they never were unless they were staring straight into their reflection— but the sentiment was there anyway. They understood long days. Long days could make people rigid and sharp like a rod or a blade. Still, being hard and sharp didn’t justify cutting someone deep.

When Teddie remained silent, Yosuke spoke up again. “I didn’t handle it well. I really am sorry.”

Souji softened a bit. It was a hard lesson, to not lash out. It took time to learn. Sometimes it took three hours of Chie and Kousuke taking turns at driving it home with a disappointed perseverance Souji hadn’t seen in years.

It took a moment for the connection to take. First there was the questing thought that drew their brows together, the one that wondered why Chie and Kousuke seemed connected to Souji’s current position despite being nowhere near them. Then came the foggy memory of passing out in exhaustion after a fight, a sensation they had felt before, but never this intensely. Finally came the fight itself, and the past day along with it.

Souji took a long moment to breathe, their heartbeat rapid in their chest. They were safe. There was a warm fire. They were on dry ground. Their weapon was nearby, and they were among friends. They were safe.

They took a deep breath, opened their eyes, and promptly yelped.

Teddie had been leaning over them, their face only a finger’s breadth from Souji’s. “They’re awake, Yosuke!”

Yosuke was clutching a hand to his chest— he’d probably changed his paws in order to better handle the wood. “I can see that, Teddie. They also scared the crap out of me, yelling like that.” He frowned at Souji in disapproval.

“Teddie was the one who was—“ Souji gestured fruitlessly.  “They started it!”

“I don’t care who started it, I—“ Yosuke paused in dawning horror. “No, we’re not going down this path. I refuse to be the parent here.”

Teddie leant to the side in an exaggerated attempt at communicating their bemusement. “Isn’t a parent someone who takes care of people?”

Souji, who had been smiling at Teddie’s antics despite themself, stiffened. Yosuke did as well.

“Not always,” Souji said, shifting their weight in an effort to stand.

Yosuke’s shoulders began to rise, whatever fur he retained bristling. “Ha. Well, I can’t say I’m any good at it, anyway.” He laughed, even as his ears moved as if to fold back.

Souji paused in brushing the various clinging bits of nature off their person. They worked their mouth a bit, trying to think of what to say. “I meant to say it earlier, after I fought that thing, but what it said was really… I mean, you’re not—”

Yosuke waved a hand, smiling. “No. No, it’s really okay, Souji.” He let the smile fade a bit. “Accepting stuff about yourself takes a bit, and I just need to let it settle. It’s fine.”

Souji frowned, but let it pass.

“A parent is someone who gave birth to you or someone who raised you,” Souji explained.

Teddie looked confused. “So am I my own parent?”

“Um.” Souji bit their lip. “Teddie. Are you suggesting that you just created yourself?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how I was made. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know,” Teddie said, mimicking Yosuke’s previous words.

Yosuke winced. “I said I was sorry, Ted—“

“But I do know some things. I know things that Yosuke would never ever know.” They beamed, the mask of their face contorting impossibly.  “I can tell you about what attacked you!”

Souji and Yosuke stared at Teddie with all the comprehension of fish attempting to understand the existence of clouds. After a moment, Souji snapped out of their bewilderment.

“That’s right,” they said, drawing out the words with care, “you said you needed my help because things were getting irritated.”

“Shadows! The shadows were getting unbearable! Like it said, ‘I am the shadow’! They’re very open about themselves.” Teddie frowned down at the ground. “I’m sorry Yosuke had to meet his.”

Yosuke startled. “Okay. Wait a second. I’m pretty sure you said something about the shadows getting irritated before bad shit happens, but you didn’t say anything about the shadows attacking people.”

Teddie shifted their weight with all the subtlety of a bear-shaped pendulum. “Well, the shadows don’t! One person’s shadow attacks them. They don’t all attack at once. Usually.”

“Still, the attacking thing would have been nice to know,” Yosuke objected. He crossed his arms, making displeased noises. His tail flagged behind him, whipping in agitation.

Yosuke looked as if he had more to say, but stopped as Souji raised their hand as if they were attending a lecture. Misunderstanding, Teddie grabbed their hand and shook it.

“That’s not quite…” Souji flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I was trying to accomplish something that you didn’t have context for. I’m sorry. I meant to ask a question.”

“Yosuke never asks for permission, so it would be beary unusual for you to, Souji!” Teddie beamed, and Yosuke looked disgruntled. “Ask whatever you want! I might not be able to answer though.” Teddie dimmed slightly. “I really don’t know as much as I’d like.”

“Thanks, Teddie.” Souji bit their lip. “You said they don’t usually attack people en masse. Does that mean that they can do it? Have they done it before?”

Teddie hummed, their carnival mask of a face screwed up in concentration. “Well, two shadows attacked in a day. Both Yosuke and that girl—”

“Saki,” Yosuke and Souji corrected, near simultaneously. Souji stared at Yosuke as he began to flush red, but didn’t say anything.

“Both Yosuke and Saki were attacked within a few hours of each other. That’s never happened before— at least as far as I know— but,” Teddie paused for dramatic effect, looking to see that their audience was listening, “now that it’s happened, it’ll probably happen again.”

Souji considered sitting down again. “So you’re saying Mayumi and Saki were definitely attacked by shadows?” They paused in realization. “Is that why Yosuke passed out? If I hadn’t defeated the shadow, would he be unable to wake up?”

Yosuke paled. “Wait a second. Saki had marks around her neck, the kind left when someone’s been choked. How does that happen with gigantic frog things that air your secrets like piss-stained blankets in the wind?”

Teddie thrust their paw in the air in imitation of Souji’s earlier action. “It’s all about how you see them! Since shadows are your thoughts and emotions, they’re like candles that just kind of burn forever and ever. You change the color of the lantern’s glass, though! They’re the same flames, but the way everything around them looks is different.”

Souji nodded, pretending they understood.

“I don’t get it,” Yosuke complained.

“If you see the shadows as people, they’re people,” Teddie said. “You saw it as something out to get you, so it was!” They grinned. “And now that you see it as part of you, you can control it.”

“So Saki and Mayumi saw their shadows as people?” Souji frowned. “But why wouldn’t they be able to control them, then?”

“People can still be threats.” Souji turned, surprised, to Yosuke. He had said the words without inflection, but his ears were pressed against his head.

Souji couldn’t contain a wince as they remembered the way they had raced through the woods, ready to attack Yosuke. There had been no doubt in their mind that people could be threats then.

The thought prompted a question. “Yosuke?”

He looked at them, a preoccupied expression on his face. “Yes?”

“Why was your shadow spotted near the Konishis anyway?”

Yosuke flushed inexplicably, snapping back into the present. “Actually… that was probably me. My shadow was in the woods the whole time, I think.”

“What?”

“I wanted to go do the apology thing. To get it over with, you know? I’d practiced, and I thought it would be fine, and I couldn’t find you. So I just kind of went for it.” His face darkened with the suddenness of clouds rolling into the valley.

“But when I got there, I found Saki on the floor. I was frozen for all of five seconds, and then I ran. Her brother spotted me on the way out.” Yosuke was silent for a moment. “I’ll probably have to leave. They were already sending you after me, but now. Now they have ‘proof’ that I’m a killer.”

“No, Yosuke.” Souji shook their head. “I have to inform everyone about the shadow situation anyway. Your presence will lend credibility. Otherwise I’ll have to tell the town that my one witness that isn’t asleep is in Detecande.”

Yosuke loosed a low whining noise, like a kicked dog. “Can’t you just defeat their shadows instead?”

Souji cocked their head. “Can we do that?” They asked Teddie.

Teddie frowned. “I’m beary sorry, but that’s impossible. The strangling marks on the victim’s necks mean that the shadows won.”

Yosuke gaped at Teddie, alarmed, as Souji rubbed at their mouth anxiously. “Do you mean there’s no chance of them waking up?” Yosuke asked.

“I don’t know,” Teddie said, their body sagging, as if under a great weight. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Teddie,” Souji reassured automatically.

“No,” Yosuke bit out. “It’s not. It’s not their fault, but it isn’t okay.”

Souji opened their mouth to respond, but couldn’t find any words. They stared down at the campfire, which was burning down to near ashes. There wasn’t much time left.

 

* * *

“Thank the gods. Oh, thank the gods.”

Souji’s eyes widened as their uncle sank back into a chair as if all his energy had left him. They’d returned to the manor after helping Yosuke and Teddie collect firewood, long after dark had settled into the valley. Dojima had been there, waiting. He had sent Healer Shiroku along to watch over Nanako.

“I thought you had gone off and got yourself killed. I thought I would have to write your mother to say—I thought I’d have to tell Nanako that… Gods. You’re alright.”

Dojima rubbed at his eyes. “Gods.” He sat up and pulled at his face once more. Souji couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“What kind of stunt were you pulling? Going after that thing alone?”

“It’s my job,” Souji said, glancing down at the stone beneath their feet. There was a whorled pattern that looked a bit like a cat, opening its mouth wide. “I had to do my job.”

“That doesn’t mean you do it alone.”

“You asked for my help,” Souji said quietly, “you said it was my responsibility."

“I also told you not to go alone,” Dojima said, raising his voice. “You could have been killed, Souji. You may be a knight, and you may be of age, but that does not mean that you can fight everything in the world alone.”

Souji remembered looking to their right and seeing Daisuke, their left and seeing Chie. Just as clearly, they remembered being split apart and shuffled into specialized courses. Souji was a Palfrey knight. Palfrey knights helped anyone they could—regardless of having backup or not.

“I thought I could help, so I did. I apologize if I caused you undue stress.”

“That isn’t the only problem here, Souji!” Dojima slapped a hand down on the wooden table beside him, and the sound echoed through the large, empty chamber.

Souji startled, wincing.

“Kid, I didn’t—“ Dojima started, before sighing. Souji glanced up to see him shaking his head. “It’s been a long day. Let’s just get home. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

He rose slowly, and made his way to the door. As he passed Souji, he stopped for a moment. “Did you manage to kill the beast?”

Souji looked down at their sword, long enough that Dojima sighed. “Guess not, then.”

“It’s a matter of who you ask,” Souji answered, finally, but Dojima had already gone.

It was probably for the best, they thought. They’d have more time to think, this way. They’d be able to come up with a plan of attack, this way. They’d be fine. They would make time, and they would fix everything.

Everything would be just fine.

 

* * *

**“Everyone thinks like me.”**

**“No one thinks like me.”**

**“Everyone has had this experience.”**

**“I’m the only one that has ever felt like this.”**

**“You’re all desperate to feel some connection with someone, anyone that might understand. You crawl, belly to the earth, searching for a scrap of paper that might offer a stranger’s perspective on the emotions you’ve felt when the night grows darkest around you. Still, you think, I’m special. I’m different. I know these emotions intimately, and no one else has felt them deep in their soul the way I have.”**

**“Isn’t it odd that you seek out companionship only to reject it? Isn’t it odd that you want a different perspective, only to tell yourself that yours is the only one you can trust?”**

**“How self-absorbed can the lonely become?"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I started this chapter thinking I was about to write lighthearted banter. Guess what I did not write.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they do not reach for the truth and instead reach, fumbling, for something that is less likely to get them in trouble.

Souji had been sitting against the wall for what seemed like eternity, and perhaps would have remained that way if it were not for two factors: they had work to do, and their backside was going numb.

They rose a little bit at a time, stretching and grunting with the effort as they went. After they had managed to assume an upright position, they blinked into the murky abyss around them.

Light did not so much settle in the valley as it did wander through it, all but gone once the day ended. There was barely a memory of light in Souji’s room.

As dark as their room was, however, Souji’s eyes had adjusted enough to make out the vaguest outlines of their bags.

They waited a moment, hands clenching and unclenching at their side. Then, in one fluid motion, they crossed the room to grab one of the bags.

It took a moment to find the scrying glass. Once they did, however, it took little effort to activate it. Souji had to shield their eyes as it lit the room with its glow, usually warm and effusive, now painfully bright in the room’s darkness.

Someone would be awake, Souji knew. Shift rotation was a constant, even if it had been a long time since the full guard was needed. The Amagis made sure of that.

Even still, it was a long moment before their glass connected with another.

“Kind of late for a call, isn’t it?” The eyes of Tohru Adachi peered at them through the glass. He looked concerned. “Especially for you. What are you, a tick of the sundial ahead? Getting enough sleep there, Seta? ”

“I have been sleeping in a far more regular manner than to that which I am usually accustomed,” Souji said, the words stilted and bulky in their mouth. They felt their stomach twist, and were suddenly glad that Adachi had no way of knowing that their hands were shaking.

The words they had scripted seemed to vanish from their mind just before they spoke, leaving only, “I need to report an incident, Lieutenant-Commander.”

Adachi cocked his head. “Seta, what have you stumbled into in the middle of nowhere? I mean, after the cockatrice thing I wouldn’t be surprised if you walked straight into a dragon’s nest, but you’re about eighty kilometers from anywhere important.”

Souji shook their head. “People have been attacked. Figures that seem identical to the victims— at least, they do at first— confront individuals. They seem to induce a soporific state somehow, and no one can wake them.”

Adachi gaped at them. “Seta… Shit.” He shook his head, slowly. “You really do just stumble into the worst of things, don’t you?” He rested his chin on his fist.

“And you’re reporting this as a separate incident. Shit.” He grimaced. “So this has nothing to do with the problem you were investigating earlier?”

Souji swallowed, remembering Yosuke’s eyes tinted gold. “Absolutely nothing, Lieutenant-Commander.”

“I figured. God. Any way to fight them that you saw?”

Souji remembered crying out, remembered light on metal, remembered calling lightning from the sky. They remembered Yosuke waking, tiredly acknowledging the shadow as part of himself.

They remembered his face stricken with fear at being revealed to others.

“No, Lieutenant-Commander. They seem to weaken when attacked, but I didn’t see any reliable way to fight them.” It wasn’t a lie, Souji reasoned. They had no idea how they summoned that figure—it wasn’t a reliable system at all.

“That’s disappointing,” Adachi sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Seta. Thank you for reporting the incident.” Adachi hummed. “Any additional information you’d like to add to the report I have to write up, since you’re sitting pretty as far away as you are?”

“Their official designation appears to be ‘shadow’ or ‘shadows’, they appear to have golden eyes,” Souji prayed that was true of all shadows, “and this village desperately needs a temporal mage as soon as possible. Each of the victims is unable to ingest fluid or food, and I’m afraid they’ll die if they aren’t put in stasis.”

Adachi whistled. “Well, that was more than I was expecting.  Thank you for being so thorough.” He frowned. “Gonna be a pain in the ass trying to figure out how to get a mage over there quickly enough, but eh, we’ll manage. Don’t be too let down if it takes a little while, though.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant-Commander.”

“Get some sleep, Seta. You’ve had a long day, I’m guessing.”

“Will do.”

When the light dimmed, the room was darker for its absence. Souji felt the contours of the glass in their hand, wishing that they could be sure someone would answer if they were to activate it once more.

 

* * *

 

“You know I don’t like you investigating the woods alone.” It was a statement, coupled with a mouth in a firm line and eyebrows crushed together in disapproval. “Especially when it’s still dark outside.”

“I know, Uncle Dojima.” Souji forced themself to make eye contact for a moment, attempting to reassure him. “I promise to have my sword and armor at the ready at any time, and I will keep my lantern lit until the sun rises. I will be fine. I promise.”

Nanako peered at them, eyes worried and tired and chin tucked in. She should still have been in bed, Souji, thought, but she had insisted on being awake for their departure.

“You were hurt. I saw you putting new bandages on.” She shook her head. “If the forest hurts you, you shouldn’t go in! You can look for monsters in the shops instead.”

Souji hesitated, their mouth working for a moment. After a brief pause, their expression settled on a smile, and they crouched down to meet Nanako on her level.

“Nanako, do you remember the first time we made dinner together?”

She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Yeah. I don’t forget things _that_ easily.”

“I know. You’re very smart— that’s why I think you can understand what I’m about to tell you.” They looked at her solemnly, and then glanced behind her to peer up at Dojima.

His brow was wrinkled and his arms were crossed, but he did not seem as if he would stop them. After a moment he nodded in tacit agreement.

Souji took a deep breath. “When we made dinner, do you remember what I told you about the fire?”

“You said that if I got too close to it, I might hurt myself, and I said that I already knew that, and you said you were just making sure.” Nanako smiled, appearing proud of the way she had proven her abilities of recollection.

“Nice work! You remembered the entire conversation,” Souji praised. “The thing is, you knew you might get burnt, right?”

Nanako nodded.

“And it’s because you knew that was a possibility that you were so careful, and it’s because you were careful that you weren’t hurt.” Souji patted her on the shoulder. “It’s the same with me. I know the danger of going into the woods, and I can be prepared because of it. I’ll be fine, Nanako.”

Nanako’s face crumpled. “But you can get hurt even when you’re careful! Dad’s burned himself on the pot, and I’ve tripped on the stairs, and you got hurt in the woods, and I know we were careful! I was really, really careful when I fell, and I still scared Dad!”

Souji hummed in distress. “Nanako. Nanako, please listen to me. I know what to do when I’m hurt. I’ve been through lots of training, and I am very tough, and I promise you I would never, ever do anything that might make you scared about me.”

“You’re doing it right now!”

Souji frowned. “I’m sorry, Nanako. I’m sorry that things are scary, and I’m sorry, but I have to go. It’s just like going up the stairs even though you tripped before, or using the fire to cook even when you’ve been burnt. We have to do it, so we do, even if it’s scary. This time, however, we know our limits even better, and we’re prepared.”

Nanako’s fists were still clenched at her side, and her breathing had gone shallow.

Dojima looked, for a moment, as if he would intervene, but Souji held up a finger as an idea dawned on them.

“One second, Nanako.” They strode over to their bag and rummaged through it, fumbling for the smooth feel of parchment. Once they had grabbed the item they had been searching for, they walked back over to Nanako and sat down before her.

“This,” Souji said, “is a map of the valley. Do you see the big block, right there?”

Nanako nodded, biting her lip. “Is that the manor?”

Souji beamed. “Yes, it is. Now, right to the side,” they pointed to the part of the forest just adjacent to the manor, “is where I’ll be. It isn’t very far at all, and if I get into any trouble I can get help as quickly as possible.”

Nananko surveyed the map in front of them with a fierce expression, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. Finally, she nodded.

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft. “Okay. Be safe, Souji.”

“Of course, Nanako.” They hugged her tightly. “I’ll be as safe as houses.”

Behind her back, Dojima nodded.

Souji smiled.

 

* * *

 

Souji paused in order to execute a quick survey of their surroundings, allowing their lantern to illuminate the clearing, before all but flopping to the ground. They winced and rubbed their tailbone, trying to maneuver so that their light armor wouldn’t injure them.

The light emanating from the lantern was an eerie red, stretching out to give everything around it a kind of warm sheen. Red light was, as far as Souji knew, one of the only kinds that strip them of night vision, and the ambiance was just so much a side effect.

They stretched a bit, entertaining the thought of taking off some of the bulkier portions of their armor, and then settled back. After a few, long moments, their breathing evened out, and their face turned upwards.

Souji gazed up at the sky for a long while, considering the stars above them. The sky loomed, massive, stretching across the top of the world like an enveloping blanket. The sheer enormity of it stripped most thoughts of any particular depth from their mind. The sensation of dawn creeping in and the uneasy awareness of how large the world was had sunk too deep into their bones for them to think of anything else.

That lasted until the gleam of a medallion consumed their line of sight, the leather thong on which it hung wrapped around a large paw. Souji closed their eyes for a moment, taking the time they needed to calm themself in the face of the sudden surge of adrenaline that accompanied the interruption. Opening their eyes once more, they tilted their head back until they could see Yosuke’s bewildered expression.

“Why do you carry this depressing thing around with you?” He asked, swinging the medallion in emphasis. He nearly clocked Souji with it in the process, and promptly reached out to still its motion.

Souji pulled themself up into a seated position, causing Yosuke to pull back from his hovering. “Was that necessary? You could have announced your presence, you know.”

Yosuke snorted. “You’re supposed to be a knight who travels. Forgive me for thinking you’d be attuned to bandit levels of stealth.” He shook his head, a wry twist to his lips. “I’m very sorry, anyway. Now, tell me what this thing is.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean,” they responded, “I mean, I carry it because it’s proof of my status as a vassal to the royal family. It’s a reminder of my duty and a reassurance to the people I help. I can’t say I’ve ever found that depressing, though.”

They neglected to mention the times they looked at the medallion on those nights that they’d been alone while seeking out Inaba, remembering the proud flash of Daisuke’s eyes and Chie’s enthusiastic congratulations. Responsibility held a different weight when their friends weren’t supporting them.

“Well, it’s a pretty shitty reassurance, don’t you think?”  Yosuke snorted, his apparent alternative to wrinkling his nose while his snout was intact. “I mean, ‘everyone is weak’? If I wanted protection I’d want to know that the person protecting me knew what they were doing, you know?”

Souji began to laugh, and Yosuke’s ears laid back in surprise at the sound of it. Within seconds, however, his tail started wagging, his ears perking once more. “What did I say?” Yosuke asked. “Did I misread something? I thought I had Fennecian down, but if I read something funny…” He trailed off, eyeing Souji.

In response, Souji tried to stifle their laughter behind their closed fist, worried that they might offend him. “I’m sorry,” Souji apologized, “I shouldn’t have laughed. You read it correctly.”

“Then why were you laughing?” Yosuke’s tail began to slow, moving hesitantly from side to side.

Souji wavered. It was one thing for an acquaintance to think them odd; it was quite another for the acquaintance to hear the entirety of Souji’s thought process and scoff at them for it. Souji eventually realized that they were talking to a werewolf that thought bovine carcasses were an appropriate courting gift, and had essentially bared his soul before them in the form of a gigantic shadow frog, however, and decided that the risk was negligible.

“I was laughing because I started picturing my old professor hosting a philosophy lecture in the middle of the forest.”

Yosuke continued to stare uncomprehendingly, but did not glare at them in disdain. Souji took it as a good sign.

“Well, the thing is that the medallion’s more a symbol of an idea than it is a pledge, but you would have to approach it from a certain point of view to really get the message. To do that, you would have to know the basics of philosophy, and I had to learn those basics from a teacher. So, in a way, I had leapt from there to the idea of him holding a lecture in the forest.” Souji looked down, avoiding Yosuke’s eyes, and rubbed their hand against the grass beneath it in order to distract themself. “Sorry. I guess that’s kind of a convoluted thought process.”

It took a few moments of strained silence, but they eventually felt a paw prodding at their knee. “Okay. Now tell me what the inscription means.”

Souji looked back up at Yosuke, whose ears were flicking in anticipation. “Oh. Oh! Right.” Their gaze flicked between the medallion and Yosuke. “Right. Well, it does mean that everyone is weak, but in essence that means that everyone needs protection at some point. Everyone deserves the protection they need, and so you’re duty-bound to protect those who are weak in the areas in which you’re strong, and they’re bound to do the same. When you become a knight, you swear that you will do what you can to ease the burdens of others, and that you’ll accept help when you need it.”

The next time Souji looked at Yosuke, his expression was unreadable. His ears and tail were still, and his eyes fixed on the medallion that still dangled from his paw. “Oh,” he said, “I see.”

Souji shifted uneasily, wondering if they’d done something wrong. “Is something the matter?”

Yosuke’s right ear twitched, his mouth slanting in concentration before softening. Eventually he sighed. “Nah. Everything’s fine.” He looked at Souji for a moment before grinning. “Everything’d probably be easier if I had had a philosophy class earlier on, right?”

Souji laughed, relieved. “I can’t imagine you would like my teacher. Igor is many things, and most of them would irritate you.” Their brow wrinkled. “Actually, he’s doing his best to irritate me, as well.”

Yosuke cocked his head and whistled. “Must be a hell of a guy if he can do it all the way from Fenneca.”

Souji shrugged. Yosuke had reminded them of why they had come to the forest in the first place. There was silence as they tried to compose their thoughts, and then—

“Souji, are you alright?”

“Huh?” Souji stared at him, dazed at the interruption.

“It’s just,” Yosuke touched his own face, below his eyes. “You look like a raccoon, Souji. Don’t seem as energetic today.”

Souji smiled weakly. “Eh, I’ve just had to think through a lot. Such thoughts as, ‘why does Yosuke feel the need to rummage in my bag without permission,’ keep me awake, you know.”

Yosuke sniffed. “I’ll have you know that your bag was open, and your annoying lantern was making that medal light up brighter than a fire loaded with saltpeter. If you want someone to be nosy and rummage through your stuff, you should go wake up Teddie.”

“Teddie sleeps?”

“I’ve learnt not to ask what Teddie does or does not do unless I am bored out of my skull.”

“Huh,” Souji hummed low in their throat, considering the implications.

“Seriously, though. You look beat.” Yosuke didn’t seem like he would drop the subject.

Souji winced. “I may have… I may have lied to a superior today.”

Yosuke stared at them blankly. “Did you spend your entire budget?”

“No!” Souji gaped at him, brow wrinkled in offense. “No. I didn’t so much as lie, as I obfuscated the truth a little. At least, I’m trying to convince myself of that.”

“Souji, has anyone ever told you that you have a weird way of circling a subject like five times before you actually tell people what the subject is? Because if not, consider this to be me telling you.”

Souji made a distressed noise. “I told the lieutenant-commander that I didn’t know how to defeat the shadows because I really don’t know how I did it, and I knew you didn’t want people to know about you.”

Yosuke blinked, ears twitching. “Uh, Souji, you know that that means no one can actually help you with fighting the shadows? Because you basically told them they couldn’t.”

Souji sighed, and likely would have buried their face in their arms if they hadn’t hit themself in the head with the metal sleeves of their gauntlets the last time they had tried.

“I know.”

“You could have asked me if I was okay with you ‘reporting’ me before you contacted that lieutenant-commander person.”

Souji made a vague noise of discontent. “I don’t like putting things off,” they mumbled, “and I needed to report that we needed a temporal mage.”

Yosuke looked confused for a moment, and opened his mouth. However, a flash of light cut him off, different from the glow of dawn that had been creeping upon them.

“That’s my glass,” Souji said, tone blank in surprise.

Yosuke was squinting, closing his eyes hard in an effort to save them from the harsh glare. “Do you have the sun trapped in there? Gods be damned that’s bright.”

Souji crossed over to their bag, lying as open as Yosuke had said it was, and dug out their mirror. Making sure to face it so that Yosuke was in no danger of appearing in the glass, Souji answered.

“Souji! What happened? Are you alright? I start my shift and I hear from Adachi of all people that you’ve been dealing with attacks in the middle of Inaba, of all places!” Chie’s concerned face looked up from the mirror, eyes flitting at a rapid face, presumably to check Souji’s face for injury.

“I’m fine, Chie. I promise. Adachi probably made it sound worse than it was to make the story more fun to tell— you know how he is.”

Yosuke made a sound of interest, more of a yip than anything else. “Chie?”

Chie’s eyes grew big with concern. “Oh no, you did not answer the glass while you were on an expedition did you? Souji, we learnt on the first week of training that that was—“

“I’m not on an expedition,” Souji reassured her, “I just have someone with me who is far too curious for his own good.” They looked pointedly at Yosuke, who sunk back dejectedly.

Chie squinted at Souji, but let it pass. “Anyway, now that you’ve promised you’re okay,” she looked at Souji in a manner that implied she would attack them herself if they turned out to be lying. “It’s time to check on the actual victims. Is there anything we need to get to them to help? You said they’re all comatose, right?”

“Well, like I told Adachi, we need a temporal mage to hold them in stasis so that they don’t starve to death.”

Chie blinked, her eyebrows knitting together. “I didn’t—“

“Wait, starve to death?” Yosuke looked alarmed. “You didn’t tell me about that part.”

“What’s your friend saying? It’s coming out muffled on this end.” Chie leaned forward a bit, as if that would help.

Yosuke made a frustrated noise, backed away, and within a few moments had shifted away any facial features that resembled a wolf’s, ears and all.

Realizing what he was trying to do, Souji reached out a hand. “Yosuke, wait a second,” they warned.

Ignoring them, Yosuke approached the glass. “How long would it take for a mage to get he— oh.”

He looked down at the glass in shock, his lupine ears beginning to pop back out and immediately lie flat. His tail tucked between his legs.

Chie looked similarly shocked, but not at seeing his wolf-like features. “Yosuke?” An incredulous smile began to form on her face. Then after a moment’s pause, her expression darkened. “What the actual fuck, Yosuke?”

Souji, without thinking, deactivated the glass.

Yosuke looked up at them in shock, still maintaining the expression of a squirrel being spotted by an eagle.

“Sorry,” Souji said, “I panicked.” They looked down at the glass, expression blank but for the way they chewed the inside of their cheek, then back up at Yosuke for a long moment.

Then, predictably, the glass lit up again.

* * *

**"One cannot avoid entrapping oneself. Responsibility, duty, and promises lead every person to their own demise, whether the pacts were made with other beings, mere concepts, or themself."**

**"There will always be a promise one can never keep, a responsibility one will neglect, or a duty that will go unpaid."**

**"And if one promise can be broken so easily, why make them? Why enter pacts that can be neglected without a second thought?"**

**"It is simple. The fools who make pacts are the ones who are either so confident they can accomplish the task that they ignore the hurts they can inflict if it goes unfulfilled, or so corrupt that they never intended to keep the pact in the first place."**

**"All those who make oaths are oath breakers at heart."**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which old wounds are reopened.

  **Then**

 

The sun was bright against the high wall of the Repository. It made Yosuke sweat, matting his hair and making his binder itch uncomfortably. He frowned and considered shifting— panting was a far less gross feeling.

He sighed. Panting also required a complete shift, and that was just too hard. Besides, he’d have to walk all the way to the entrance of the Repository, find an empty room that locked, and change. It was too much effort.

Chie would tease him enough as it was for sitting in the sun without shifting the extra fur and front paws away anyway.

He grimaced. It was her fault anyway. She was the one who had chosen the West Wall as a meeting place— leave it to Chie to find the one part of the Repository that didn’t have any trees nearby.

“Yosuke!”

He glanced up mid-complaint to see his friend making her way toward him. She was holding a crate that was nearly as big as her, her sleeves rolled up and work trousers muddy, and all he could see of her head was her eyes peering over it.

He couldn’t help it. He started laughing. “Chie, what are you doing?”

She made an offended noise and set the gigantic wooden box on the ground. “I was being a good friend, but I’m beginning to think that maybe you don’t deserve my amazing thoughtfulness.”

“Last time you tried to be ‘thoughtful’, I woke up with thirty kilograms of dog on my chest,” Yosuke said, “so you’re probably right. I did nothing to deserve this.”

“You can’t pretend you hate Muku, Yosuke. He’s a sweetheart, and I have seen you feeding him scraps, so,” she pressed her lips together and made a fart noise, “ha!” Chie crossed her arms triumphantly.

“I didn’t say I hated Muku— I was making a point about how you’re only thoughtful when it comes to heavy things that can potentially crush my ribcage.” He pointed to the crate. “So, I think I’m being pretty reasonable when I say I don’t trust anything you say while wielding large objects.”

Chie’s face scrunched up. “I went through a lot of effort here, you know! You’re not the easiest person to find gifts for. I wondered, ‘okay, but, what could Yosuke possibly want that he doesn’t have, and he couldn’t get,’ and Muku was looking up at me with these really sad eyes because this was cutting into his training time, and then I finally figured it out!”

Yosuke looked at her in bewilderment. “But I didn’t do anything. Why would you get me a gift?”

“It’s almost your birthday, you butthead.” Chie rolled her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t going to be able to make it, remember? The whole picking up new squires thing? So I wanted to give you a present early.”

Yosuke stood there, stunned for a moment, before shifting his arms and wrapping her into a hug. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but you’re amazing.”

Chie squirmed. “Gods, if I knew this would happen, I would’ve just left the present on your doorstep before I left.”

“Too bad. You’re now enduring gratitude.”

“Gratitude burns me worse than phoenix dung, apparently.”

Yosuke laughed and released her, grinning as she pointedly examined her tunic. He should have been the one checking his clothing for stains— she was the one with muddy trousers, after all.

Chie squinted at him. “You always leave fur on my clothes. Always. You’re worse than Muku.”

Yosuke snorted. “Am not! He’s like five times as fluffy as me.” He gestured with his hands, trying to express how massive the dog was in comparison.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t shed more.” She shook her head, her face a mask of regret. “Poor Yosuke. Doomed to lose all of your hair before you grow old. Absolutely tragic.”

“You’re being awfully mean for someone who said they were trying to be thoughtful,” Yosuke said, “but I will forgive you out of the goodness of my heart.” He paused, held a finger up, and took a deep, dramatic breath. “On the condition that I can open my present now.”

“That’s not what forgiving out of the goodness of your heart means,” Chie said, smirking. “So maybe I’ll just hold onto the present for a while. Your birthday is still a way off, after all…”

“Chie,” Yosuke whined, dragging her name out.

She laughed. “All right, you butt. Let me get it out.” Chie unclasped one of the small bags she kept tied to her belt, weighing it in her palm.

Yosuke squinted at her, bemused. “Wait, so it’s not in the big crate?”

Chie looked at him as if he were speaking some obscure, Detecandian dialect. “No, Yosuke. That crate had to be delivered to the West Wall by this afternoon. Why else would I ask you to meet here? It’s hotter than the menagerie, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Yosuke shrugged, defensive. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have friends in high places who invite me for _tea_ ,” he laced the word with innuendo, “in the menagerie, so I don’t really have an opportunity to visit.”

Chie was not impressed. “Yosuke, friendly reminder that I still have your present, and that I can kick your ass any day of the week.”

Yosuke winced. “Whoops. Sorry, Chie. Won’t happen again.”

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm. “Of course it will. You’re a butt, but you’re learning. It’s just that you’re learning slowly enough that I don’t know why I bother.”

“Because you’re secretly in love with m— Fuck!”

Yosuke looked up at Chie in pained shock from his new place on the ground. “Did you just dead leg me?”

“Like I said, Hanamura— Any day of the week.” She reached out her hand and helped him up.

“Yeah, yeah. You warned me.” He huffed, and shifted his arms and legs to a more lupine shape in an effort to make the numb feeling in his knee dissipate.

“Yep. Now here—take the present before you say something else that makes me regret being so thoughtful.” She tossed him the bag.

Yosuke fumbled in catching it, but managed to catch his claws on the bag. “Got it!”

It took a moment’s work to change his paws back into fumbling fingers, and another to undo the knots in the drawstring.

“Why do you always have to tie them closed? They close already, Chie.”

She shook her head. “Try carrying a bag of ignitable powder with you to camp, and let’s see if you don’t get a bit anxious about leakage.”

Yosuke nodded. “Okay, fair point, but…” He trailed off midsentence, looking down at the object in his hand.

“You didn’t,” Yosuke whispered, turning it over in awe. It was a crystal, glowing faintly as if lit from within.

“I did,” Chie chirped, a pleased look on her face. “I mean, you always went, ‘Chie, what were the Chansomme caverns like,’ or, ‘Chie, do the crystals really make music? What kinds? Chie, did they sound different to each person?’” She grinned, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. “I probably should have thought of it sooner, to be honest. But, yeah, that’s your very own song crystal.”

Yosuke gaped at her wordlessly. “I— I just…” His mouth worked soundlessly. “Thank you, Chie. This is great,”

She beamed. “No problem, Yosuke. Happy fourteenth birthday.”

 

* * *

 

**Now**

 

“I cannot _believe_ you!” Chie’s face was bright red, and her voice boomed out of the mirror. “Five years! Five godsdamned years and you didn’t think once to tell me you were alright! I thought you were _dead_ , Yosuke!” She slammed her hand down on the table before her.

Souji worked their mouth wordlessly, looking between Chie and Yosuke in anguished bewilderment. Everything inside them screamed to make things better, but they were frozen, unable to conceive of any way they could do so.

Chie rubbed at her eyes angrily the moment tears appeared, while Yosuke stood with his ears folded back and tail puffed out.

“I didn’t know it would look that way, okay? I figured that since they wouldn’t be able to find me they’d just figure I ran away— I thought you’d understand!”

“Understand, Yosuke? There are endless amounts of bodies no one will ever find—that doesn’t make them any less dead,” Chie bit out. “You didn’t even leave a note! All I knew was that Professor Hanamura was dead, your father had been arrested, and that you were gone.”

Yosuke softened a bit, his posture becoming less stiff. “I… Gods, Chie, I’m sorry. I really didn’t think that—”

“Since when have you ever thought?” Chie snapped at him, and then brought her hands to her eyes, open palmed against them. “Gods. I’m sorry. Disregard that.” Removing her hands from her face, she took a shallow breath that broke like a sob. “Gods. I’m just… Five years, Yosuke.” She didn’t look angry anymore; her eyes were downcast, her head moving from side to side so slowly that she might not have been aware of it.

“Why couldn’t you have just,” her voice hitched, “told me you were going?”

Souji felt something twist and break at the sight of their friend like this, and turned to Yosuke with fists clenched, only to pause.

Yosuke was crying too.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think— I just…” Yosuke whined low in his throat. “They were gone, Chie. No one would listen. Mom and Dad were gone and I kept telling everyone that it was wrong, and no one would listen!” He swiped at his face, a mirror of Chie when she cried.

Chie softened a bit, before stiffening. “You didn’t think I would listen?”

“You weren’t there, Chie.” Yosuke shook his head. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault, but you weren’t there.”

Chie looked like it would have hurt less if he had stabbed her. “No,” she whispered, “I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

There was a long, still moment in which no one spoke. Chie was looking down, fists clenched. Yosuke was looking anywhere but at the mirror, shifting his attention from every blade of grass he could scrutinise, to the stars as they vanished from the sky.

Souji noted, in the same absent manner of someone dreaming, that the sun was beginning to rise. It was a strange thought to have, when their friends were so obviously distressed. Stranger still was their inability to form any sort of opinion, aside from the notion that whatever rift there was shouldn’t exist. They ached to fix the problem, to do something, but they didn’t understand anything.

They couldn’t help if they didn’t know what was going on.

“I’m sorry as well, but I have never been more confused in my life.” Souji bit their lip. “Could you please explain what’s going on?”

Chie and Yosuke jolted, seemingly having forgotten Souji was there.

“Oh,” Chie said, blankly. “Oh!” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Souji, how the hell did you run into Yosuke?”

Souji swallowed a bitter protestation that they should have their question answered first. Hers was a fair question, considering she had apparently been looking for Yosuke for a far longer time than Souji had known him.

“He was slaughtering livestock?”

Chie squinted at them while Yosuke made indignant sounds.

“I was trying to repay the Konishis for living on their land! I was being honorable,” Yosuke insisted.

“You told me that it was because you were trying to impress Saki,” Souji said.

“I didn’t say it was Saki!”

Souji nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re Naoki’s type, but I’ll try to put a good word—“

“You are such an asshole!” Yosuke shook his head in disbelief, a laugh escaping.

Chie looked from Yosuke to Souji in bemusement. “Okay, so he fucked off from Fenneca, wandered around for years, and then just—what, wandered around Inaba trying to seduce someone out of his league?”

“Most likely,” Souji answered, shrugging.

“Hey!” Yosuke frowned, offended. “I’ll have you know I have been exploring culture and the arts!”

“You sleep in the woods, Yosuke,” Souji pointed out. They tilted their head. “There’s not much art aside from your tree carvings out here.”

“You sleep where?” Chie’s brow wrinkled and her lips pursed. “Yosuke, please tell me you’ve been building yourself shelters.”

Yosuke bristled. “Of course I have! Mom taught me just as well as she taught you, you know.”

“Wait,” Souji stopped him, holding up their hands, confused. “Are you two siblings?”

“Hell no!”

“God, siblings with _him_?”

“Okay! Okay!” Souji waved their hands, trying to pacify their friends. “I have absolutely no context for any of this, and neither of you are explaining, so I guessed.” They shrugged. “I’m sorry, I just—I have no idea what is going on.”

Chie grimaced. “I’m sorry, Souji. We must sound like we’re speaking gibberish to you.”

Souji sighed. “I wish I could say that I understood much of what you’ve said based off the given context,” they rolled the words around in their head for a moment, “but I have no clue what either of you have been talking about.”

Chie looked at Yosuke pointedly. “Do you want to start, or should I?”

Yosuke shifted his weight from side to side, looking uncomfortable. “I met Chie when we were really little. My mom was an instructor at the Repository.”

Souji made a small sound of understanding. “So Chie ran into you when she was in training?”

Yosuke laughed at that. “Literally. She came rushing down the hall with about seven other pages and knocked me over. The others didn’t really notice, but she apologized and introduced herself.” He shrugged.

“I wasn’t going to just leave you there,” Chie interjected. “It was my fault for running into you.”

Yosuke smiled a little. “I didn’t let you forget it, either. I think the next stage of our friendship was me complaining to Mom, followed by her patting you on the back for knocking me over. I got so pissed off.” He shook his head ruefully.

“It was not because I knocked you over,” Chie objected. She lifted her chin, pride shining in her eyes. “She said that it was very impressive that I took responsibility for my actions on my first day of training.”

Yosuke snorted. “Mom always sided with you. I don’t think I was ever happier than the day you set the tents on fire. Absolutely no way could you have pinned that one on me.”

Chie winced. “She had to carry me out by the back of my tunic. I just kind of hung from her mouth. I felt like a singed cat.”

Yosuke’s eyebrows knitted together, seeming to remember the story he had meant to communicate. Turning to Souji, he explained, “My mom could shift, like me, but she was a lot better at it. You have to stay in one form for a while to get used to it, and I never really liked full shifts. She used both forms a lot, though. Training the kids, rescuing them from fires, stuff like that.” He took a deep breath, looking as if he was steeling himself.

“Anyway, one day she was fully shifted— she was setting up an obstacle course for the squires, and she could move faster as a gigantic wolf-beast, y’know?” He shrugged, an empty chuckle escaping his mouth.

“There was a group of nobles going hunting that day. I guess no one told ‘em that that part of the forest was being used for training— or maybe someone had, and they just didn’t care.” Yosuke’s voice was acerbic now, stinging and sharp.

“One of them saw Mom. Thought she’d be a nice trophy. She,” his voice caught, “she died.”

“Yosuke, I can continue if you—” Chie looked at him, a worried expression on her face.

“I’m fine,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’m fine. I’m almost done, anyway.

“My dad had been helping Mom out. Some of the obstacles needed two pairs of hands to set up, and Mom really liked surprising the kids— she didn’t want to ruin it by asking one of them to help.”

Yosuke’s gaze was distant now. “When the bastards killed Mom, he just… he said he didn’t know what happened. He got so angry. He tried to attack them, but Dad’s never been that strong. They knocked him out, accused him of attempted murder, and threw him in prison.”

Souji gaped. “How did they— They murdered your mother, they had no right!”

“She didn’t have a tag, Souji,” Chie whispered. “It’s wrong. It’s wrong and horrible, but she didn’t have a tag, so they said they had no way of knowing she was human.”

Souji shook their head, stunned. Their brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why would she be tagged? Yosuke isn’t tagged either— only dangerous magic users are.” They could have hit themself. Their friend had just told them that his mother had been murdered, and they had asked about tagging, of all things. They opened their mouth to tell Yosuke to disregard their question, but he was already speaking.

“She was a dangerous magic user,” Yosuke snorted. “Shit, I am too. She just worked for the royal family. Exemption from tagging, and she didn’t even have to bribe anyone.”

“So you were exempt as well?”

Yosuke looked away. “No. Like Chie said— I ran away.”

Chie’s face crumpled. “That’s why you left? Yosuke, I wouldn’t have let them do that.”

“You weren’t there.” Yosuke shook his head. “Besides, you were just a squire. No one would listen to two kids.”

Chie stiffened, her lips pressed tight. She didn’t respond.

Desperately, Souji searched for something to hold onto. They tried to think of anything that might make the situation less bleak.

“Your father, at least,” Souji said, “your father should have at least walked free. He was just trying to—“

“Mom was already dead, and they weren’t attacking him,” Yosuke’s voice was flat. “There was no case for self defense.”

Souji was fumbling for anything that could make things better, some way they could somehow fix things. It felt like they were hollowed out by the realization that they couldn’t. “You didn’t deserve that,” they said, clenching their fists.

Yosuke laughed, bitterly. “People do shit to others that they don’t deserve all the time, Souji. Chie didn’t deserve me leaving. Saki didn’t deserve to get attacked by the existential crisis from hell. Doesn’t mean they don’t get hurt all the same.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Souji said, fists clenched.

“No,” Chie agreed, “it doesn’t.”

Yosuke softened, some bitterness leaving his expression. “You two really are unbelievable.” He shook his head. “What are the odds of me running into the one knight that could drag me into a five year over-due guilt trip?”

Souji arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I am not the only one. It could have been much worse. Daisuke would’ve knocked you out as soon as Chie started crying, for one.”

Chie hummed contentedly. “It’s nice to be reminded that I have such good friends.”

“Okay,” Yosuke conceded, rolling his eyes, “but can Daisuke kick a shadow’s ass by summoning some weird wraith thing? I don’t think so.”

Souji shrugged, unsure of whether even they could summon Izanagi’s rider again.

“Sorry, what?” Chie looked between them, baffled. “Am I missing something?”

Yosuke groaned. “I’m all storied out, Partner. It’s your turn.” He flopped down into the grass, out of view of the mirror.

“Yosuke! Seriously, what are you guys talking about?” She looked at Souji, eyes narrowed. “Souji, what’s going on?”

Souji sighed. They were already exhausted, but the sun slowly climbing up the sky from where it had sat low in the mountains told them that the day was long from over.

* * *

**“You can never return to being the person you used to be. Once warped, the soul is forever stained. You cannot forget the path you travelled, the choices you made.”**

**“The people you hurt may recover, but they will not forget. Wounds may heal, but they will scar.”**

**“This is what it means to exist. This is what it means to matter.”**

**“You will hurt others, and they will hurt you. This is your punishment for existing.”**

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter's google doc is "Giving These Kids a Break for Once" and that's all I have to say

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You lied to Lieutenant-Commander Adachi about all of this—“

“I didn’t lie!” Souji objected, “I obfuscated some details.”

Chie held up a hand to silence them. Glaring, she continued. “The point is, you deliberately hid information in direct violation of protocol. Which, you know, fine. I can’t blame you for wanting to save Yosuke’s sorry behind when I’ve done it enough times myself.”

“Hey!” Yosuke crossed his arms, his ears lying back.

“Look me in the eye and say I haven’t.”

Yosuke glanced away, huffing.

“That’s what I thought,” Chie said, snorting. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. I get it, I do. The thing is, now I’m involved. Your friend, the ranking member of the royal guard, is now an accomplice to illegal activities. I hope you’re happy.”

Souji squinted. “So you didn’t want to be told?”

“Of course I wanted to be told!” Chie shook her head in disbelief. “I’m glad to know one of my best friends is alive, and I want to know exactly what you’re up against, and that you have a way to fight it.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“Not upset,” Chie corrected, “conflicted. I was doing so well in my ‘not breaking the law’ streak, and here we are again.” She grinned ruefully. “I mean, I thought it would happen sooner or later, but I was expecting Kou or Daisuke to drag me into a life of crime. Way to break precedent, Souji.”

“I didn’t want to lie,” Souji defended. They were not whining.

Chie laughed. “I know, Souji. You’re too bad at it to like it.” She shook her head again. “I just don’t understand how someone who was given special honors for tactics, analytical thinking, and planning, for the gods’ sakes, wouldn’t be able to come up with a better cover.”

Yosuke cocked his head, visibly stitching together the tapestry their words made. “So, you two were on the same team for training?” He ventured.

“Yeah,” Chie said. “We didn’t really know at the time, but the knights and professors were trying to pull together teams of squires that wouldn’t normally interact. For instance, Souji and I hadn’t said a word to each other before then, and we were pretty clearly on different paths.”

Souji snorted. “So you say. You knew you were going to become a Royal Guard no matter what. I had no idea what I’d do.”

Chie and Yosuke stared at them; Chie looked exasperated, and Yosuke, blank. “You’re kidding me, right?” Yosuke shook his head. “We’ve known each other for only a few days, and I already know you’re way better where you’re at then you would be as a Guard or Circuit.”

Souji shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes things seem obvious to other people, but they just don’t slot into place when you try to think about them and attach them to yourself.”

“Mmmn, that makes sense.” Chie cocked her head. “Yosuke, how’d you do that?”

Yosuke blinked, his ears flicking in interest. “Do what?”

“Get them to actually open up instead of shrugging and going, ‘you’re probably right’. It makes you feel like you’ve committed some unspeakable evil, and so any information regarding how I can avoid it is appreciated.”

Souji winced. “I’m sorry Chie, I don’t do it to make you feel—“

“No! No, that is the opposite of what I want.” Chie crossed her arms. “No sad Soujis allowed, okay? And by that I do not mean, ‘I must hide my emotions,’ okay. I mean I want you to actually talk about stuff! I’m your friend, okay!”

Souji nodded, and Chie relaxed. “I’m taking that as a, ‘yes, Chie, I will accept that my emotions are not a burden on you,’ if that’s alright with you.”

Souji felt a smile tug at their lips. “Alright.” She was welcome to take it that way, if it made her feel better.

“Good!” Chie grinned, then abruptly turned to Yosuke. “Now, I am not half done with you!”

“Satanoka, it’s time for the second patrol,” a new voice interrupted, “unless you want to report a sickness, injury, emotional disturbance, family related incident, or—“

“Right. Thank you, Kubo,” Chie interrupted. She turned back to Yosuke and Souji with a disgruntled expression. “Looks like I have to go. Don’t think you’ve escaped, Yosuke.”

Yosuke shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Souji.” She gave them a meaningful look. Unfortunately, Souji had no idea how to interpret it.

“Sorry. I have no idea what you’re trying to communicate,” Souji apologized. “I could have Yosuke cover his ears,” they offered.

“Ah, yes, my canine ears,” Yosuke mused. “There is no way they could pick up on what you’re saying a meter away as long as I hold my hands against my head. This is a sound plan.”

“You could go talk to Teddie while she tells m—“

Yosuke promptly covered his ears, turned in the opposite direction, and began to hum loudly.

Amused, Souji turned back to the scrying glass. “Tada.”

Chie whistled. “Now that’s an impressive trick. You might need to teach me that one.”

Her mouth tightening, she continued. “Please, Souji, listen to me. Please don’t let him run away again.” Her face crumpled, just a little. “I don’t think I could handle him going away again. Not without a goodbye.”

Souji shook their head. “He wouldn’t—“ They caught themself at Chie’s expression. “I’ll make sure.” They cocked their head. “Would it be better if I lent him my scrying glass for a while? You could check up on him whenever you wanted to, then.”

Chie brightened for a moment before her brow wrinkled. “Souji, this is your only way to contact anyone outside Inaba. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Yosuke will be close by the entire time; if I need the glass I can easily retrieve it,” Souji insisted.

Chie frowned for a second, looking as if she were about to object once more, but instead deflated. “Alright, then. Just take care of yourself, Souji. I don’t want to send over this temporal mage just to get a report about how they had to put you in stasis too.”

“I’m sorry I can’t hug you right now,” Souji apologized. “But I promise that I will take excessive care in proceeding.”

“Don’t get all formal on me now, Souji.” She smiled, a wry twist to her lips. “I’ll take that as the ‘I miss you, but you are a close friend, and I do not want you to arrive at your post too late and get in trouble’ that you probably meant it to be.”

Souji shrugged, projecting innocence. “You said it, not me.”

“You manage to nag me without saying a word. Unbelievable.” Chie shook her head. “Tell that butt that I’ll talk to him later.” It sounded like a threat.

“Will do. Take care, Chie.”

“May your fire never die,” Chie answered, eyes shining with mirth.

Rolling their eyes, Souji responded in a low monotone. “And may no one piss on its ashes.”

Still laughing, Chie ended the connection, leaving the scrying glass a flat, reflective pane once more.

Souji looked between the bag and their bag, considering where they should put it before offering it to Yosuke. In the end, they simply sat down and placed it in their lap, looking up at their bemused new friend.

“That’s not how I remember that parting,” Yosuke said, amused. “I thought it was supposed to be something about the ashes bringing fire back.”

Souji raised a disapproving eyebrow, trying to emit intense disappointment. “You were not supposed to be listening.”

“I wasn’t,” Yosuke defended. “I saw you were saying goodbye, so I wanted to, too. But then you said the piss thing, which was really weird considering that you’re you.”

“Considering that I’m me?”

Yosuke made a vague gesture. “Yeah. All polite and considerate. You just don’t seem like the type of person who makes jokes about piss.” He shook his head. “I bet if we had had to fight your shadow it would have said something like, ‘fuck being polite, I want to talk about bathrooms at dinnertime,’ and then I’d rush in with Jiraiya, and have to make you accept that sticking your foot in your mouth is part of being a person. You would learn that it’s okay to loosen up and not be so damn perfect, and I would pose heroically with my weird frog thing.”

Souji cocked their head, crossing their arms. “What do you mean? We still might have to fight my shadow.”

“Nah,” Yosuke said, shrugging. “Think of it this way. After we fought my shadow and I accepted it, Jiraiya appeared, right? I somehow knew its name and went, ah yeah, this is definitely it. You called something out when you summoned your horse’s rider, and it came out of nowhere. I figure it’s the same kind of deal, even if there wasn’t a shadow involved.”

Souji frowned. “I see. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Yosuke clucked. “I can’t believe it’s only been a day and already you’re trying to subvert our relationship. You’re supposed to be the brains to my beauty, partner. If we switch it around there will be anarchy.”

“Well, I could always be both,” Souji considered.

“Selfish! Here we see the corruption of the newest generation of knights at hand. Truly, this is the dawn of a new dark age,” Yosuke said. “Like I said: only anarchy can come of this, and all to avoid answering one little question.”

“I wasn’t avoiding it; you just got carried away. I’m easily distracted, sometimes.”

“Fair enough,” Yosuke conceded. “Doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with it, though. Out with it: what could possibly motivate Souji Seta, the knightiest knight who ever knighted, to make a piss joke?”

Souji snorted. “It’s not as exciting as you’re expecting. My training team went on an expedition, and it got pretty cold one night. No one knew why it was freezing until each one of us woke for our shifts and saw that someone had peed on the ashes, so no one could relight the fire. No one would admit to doing it, either.” They smiled ruefully. “We haven’t said the parting the right way ever since. Well, except for formal occasions, that is.”

Yosuke whistled. “Mom would have figured it out and bit their head off within three seconds. Nothing made her angrier than one person putting the team at risk.”

Something struck Souji as odd in that moment. “Yosuke,” they started, “if your mom trained knights, how come you didn’t know about the medal? Wouldn’t your mom have one?”

Yosuke stared, his expression as blank as if Souji had asked him to recite a Detecandian poem. Then, all at once, his face lit up. “Oh! Oh, you meant the medal you carry around. Right.” His ears twitched.

“Okay, so it’s back to me for story time.” Yosuke crossed his arms, cocking his head in thought. “Basically, Mom was never a knight.”

Souji made a small surprised noise. “How did she become an instruct—“

“Hold all questions for the end of the lecture, please,” Yosuke ordered, taking on a passable court accent.

Souji sat back, amused. “Then by all accounts, please continue.”

Yosuke cleared his throat before beginning again in the same voice. “As you know, being a knight of standing who upholds a certain standard, there are certain restrictions regarding the qualifications,” here, Yosuke peered down at them in an exaggerated manner, “all manner of staff must meet. Therefore—“ At this point, Souji was laughing too hard for Yosuke to be heard.

Yosuke’s looked pleased with himself, his tail wagging. “So I see my favorite instructor is still teaching,” he said, his voice normal once more.

“Gods, yes!” Souji tried to restrain their laughter, trying to find the air to talk. “Now I really do wish you had met Professor Igor, if only to see you attempt to emulate him.”

“Attempt?” Yosuke shook his head. “I bet I could be a better Professor Igor than Professor Igor is.”

Souji snorted. “I really would enjoy seeing you try.”

Yosuke’s ears perked up, and his mouth opened wide before he shut it with a snap. “Ah! No, this is why I didn’t want you asking questions. Quit interrupting the lecture and distracting the class.”

Souji made a gesture to convey that their lips were sealed, then sat back.

“Anyway, Mom was never a knight. She was, however, an escort. People would pay her to keep them safe while they travelled, so she’d camp out and keep watch over them. That’s how she met Dad. He’s kind of useless at self-defense,” Yosuke explained.

“Her favorite trips were the ones with the pages and squires though.” Yosuke was smiling, but not in the bright, easy manner of his earlier expressions. His eyes were too hooded for that. “She really loved kids. She liked giving them tips about surviving in the wilderness, and since they were training to be knights they just ate it up. According to her and Dad, the supervising knights thought she’d get tired of all the questions, but she never did.” He laughed, quietly. “I can believe it. I asked her about everything up until I thought I knew it all.”

After a moment of silence, Yosuke cleared his throat again and continued. “Anyway, after years of seasonal trips back and forth, the knights finally went, ‘well, she’s teaching these kids anyway, why not pay her for it,’ and offered her a conditional job. She could be an instructor so long as she was formally trained at the repository.”

Souji nodded. That made sense.

There was a very long pause in which Yosuke and Souji simply sat there. Then, finally, “oh, right! You can talk now!”

Souji huffed out a small laugh. “I had guessed, but thank you for the notification anyway.”

“How was I supposed to know? You were doing that whole silent stoic thing,” Yosuke protested.

“I’ll have you know that I am highly emotive,” Souji said in a monotone.

Yosuke squinted. “Was that a joke?”

“If this is the kind of reception it garners I will never make one again.”

“No! No, it was funny; I just didn’t know if I was supposed to laugh because if it wasn’t a joke you might have been… This is another joke isn’t it?”

Souji snorted.

“You’re an asshole,” Yosuke said, pouting.

“It’s part of ‘that whole silent stoic thing,’ I believe,” Souji responded, beginning to get back to their feet.

“What are you…?” Yosuke trailed off in bewilderment as Souji pressed the scrying glass into his hands.

“Chie still wants to talk, so she’ll contact you later. When it glows, just hold still and tap the glass. Pat it on the side though— you don’t want to smudge it.” Souji snapped their fingers. “While you’re at it, you can introduce Chie to Teddie.”

“Souji, this is cruel and unusual punishment.”

Souji smiled, projecting innocence. “Chie is one of my best friends. You may be my friend as well, and I may understand where you’re coming from, but if you think that gets you out of this, well…” they shook their head. “I am afraid not.”

Yosuke opened his mouth to protest, then sagged. “I guess I deserve that.”

Souji patted him on the back. “You’ll make it through. Chie will give you hell, but she’s as loyal as—“ They stopped short. “She’s a loyal friend.”

Yosuke squinted, at them. “Were you about to say ‘dog’?”

Looking up at the sky, Souji whistled. “Oh, has the sun risen that far already? It seems I’m late for an appointment. Have fun with Chie.” With that, they beat a hasty retreat.

“Get back here! There are no appointments in Inaba. Souji, we’re in a valley with a population of maybe eighty. Souji!”

 

* * *

 

**"You distract yourselves from the truth to protect your emotions. Too much anguish leads you down a dark path, so you must avert your eyes and walk towards the sun. This is because you are weak."**

**"You will never face your pain. Not all of it. Not the way it demands to be faced. You attack it in manageable chunks, interrupted with useless platitudes."**

**"You have never felt the full burden of your pain. You will not let yourself. You are weak."**   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short because I split the original chapter in half. It was getting really big.
> 
> In other news, I have learnt that I am fully capable of planning out a YukiChie Shrek AU. I have to live with this new knowledge of myself. I spent four bucks renting Shrek to figure out who Namatame was. 
> 
> What I'm saying is that if I start writing a Shrek AU after I finish SR, I warned you, but I am still very sorry.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Konishi kids reappear, Teddie talks about their emotions, and things continue to happen

Saki might have looked restful if not for how pale she looked, and the way that her eyes constantly darted beneath her eyelids. It had been four days since she’d been attacked, but her condition had hardly changed.

Souji thought she looked a little more haggard, sometimes. Still, they knew that Saki was getting enough fluid, and that a temporal mage was sure to arrive before the lack of food wasted her away. On an intellectual level they knew this. It didn’t keep their stomach from dropping every time they saw her lying, corpse-like, on her pallet, however.

Fidgeting with their self-correcting parchment, Souji completed a rather sad, crumpled looking crane. They had thought about leaving a folded flower or bird with Saki, but it would feel too much like leaving something for the dead. Saki wasn’t dead. Besides, Souji always felt uncomfortable without something to do with their hands, and buying something for Saki seemed worse, in a way.

“Visiting again?”

Souji looked up, startled at the interruption of their thoughts.

Naoki stood a few meters away. There was no hostility in his expression or voice, for once.

“Yes,” Souji affirmed. “I try to inform her of how the investigation is progressing, but I’m not certain of how much she can hear.”

“Do you do that for Mayumi, too?”

Souji nodded. “I did not know her, as she was attacked the day I arrived, so I introduced myself first. It felt… admittedly awkward,” Souji confessed.

Naoki snorted. “It’s not exactly comfortable to talk to Saki right now, either.” He paused, staring off at a fixed point. “I wanted to…” His jaw worked a bit, as he seemed to be fitting words together. “I wanted to thank you for making the effort— for not acting like she’s as good as dead, I mean.”

Souji felt a pang of guilt at their earlier thoughts. Chasing it away, they shrugged. “I don’t think she’d be very happy with me when she woke up, if that were the case. Besides that, it is my job to figure out how to wake her and Mayumi up; it would be counterproductive to sabotage myself by saying it’s impossible.”

Naoki stiffened. “So you’re not totally convinced, either.”

Souji shook their head, frowning. “That is not what I said. I do think that Saki will wake up, eventually.”

Crossing his arms, Naoki continued to glare at some point beyond Souji. “Yeah, you have to. It’s like you said— it’s part of your job.”

“I do not know what I may have said that caused you to think that I am not emotionally invested in this, but I would like to think that if I wasn’t Saki’s friend, we were something close to it.”

“You knew her for a couple of days,” Naoki bit out. “You weren’t friends. Saki never really goes for friendship. She goes for polite conversation with people that are convenient to be nice to, but she doesn’t go for friends.”

“What about Mayumi?” Souji asked.

“Mayumi left for the city.” Naoki clenched his hands at his side. “She can drop by whenever she wants, leave a bunch of stories for Saki, and leave. Friends stick around; they don’t just leave people behind.”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek. “When friends understand that they have to go separate ways—“

“Of course you don’t understand. You’re a travelling knight.” Naoki finally glared straight at Souji, if only for a moment. “You have to leave everyone behind every other month. You’ve never been left behind; you’re the one who leaves.”

Souji’s jaw clenched, and when they spoke it was in a quiet, restrained voice that sounded unnatural to their own ears. “I would suggest that you stop making assumptions about the personal lives of strangers.”

Naoki looked defiant for a moment, opening his mouth to object, and then paused. Slowly, he began to soften, as though the fight had left him. “Gods. It’s always awful when people do that, and here I am just—“ He shook his head in disgust. After a moment, he continued. “I’m sorry. For assuming, at least.”

Souji nodded tersely. “I can see that I upset you. I am unsure what I did to do so, but I am nevertheless repentant.”

Naoki’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you always speak like you spend too long with manuscripts and not enough with people?”

Only when they were uncomfortable, Souji thought. “Not always,” they said aloud.

“Ah. I see.”

The two did not speak for a moment. Souji stood too stiffly, while Naoki shuffled and fidgeted. Neither looked at the other.

“Would you mind too terribly explaining what I did to upset you so that I may avoid it in the future?” Souji asked, after a suitably uncomfortable length of time had passed.

“Oh.” Naoki shifted his weight. “It was nothing.” He shrugged, his shoulder jerking up and down like those of a marionette. “Was just kind of projecting.”

Souji blinked, waiting.

“It’s just, I was thinking at first that you were just some nosy asshole that wanted to take down the monster for glory or something, but I didn’t care because, well, if you took out the beast then it didn’t matter if you were a jerk because Saki would wake up, and you’d be on your merry way.” He took a breath.

“But then you didn’t find it, and Saki was still asleep, and I got so pissed off at you, but you were still visiting her. You were still acting like she was alive, unlike Mom and Dad, and I thought that maybe you actually gave a shit.” His voice was hitching, but he powered on, acting as if he didn’t notice.

“Then you pulled that, ‘it’s just part of my job’ thing, and I got mad. That’s it.”

Souji hummed thoughtfully. “I see.” After a moment, they sat back down so that they were looking up at Naoki. “If it helps, I wouldn’t act like Saki or Mayumi were dead unless they were actually dead, even if I wasn’t tasked with helping them.”

Naoki made a skeptical noise. “You don’t even know Mayumi; you said it yourself.”

“That doesn’t change her current situation,” Souji said. “I don’t see that it makes much difference.”

Naoki’s brow wrinkled, and his mouth worked for a moment. Finally, he shook his head and sat down beside Souji.

“Alright. I’ll take you at your word.”

They stared down at Saki for a few moments, the silence less strained than it had been. After a moment, Naoki began fiddling with the satchel slung over his shoulder, unwinding the leather that had wound around its clasp.

After opening it, he surfaced with a small, hand-bound notebook. “Like I said, Mom and Dad are acting like she’s dead. They’ve been looking for her journal for the last few days, acting like it’s supposed to be some honorable thing to help the investigation along, never mind the whole invasion of privacy thing.”

He made a disgusted sound. “Never mind that Saki hates anyone touching her journal, and she puts everything anyone needs to know on the damn public agenda she makes each day.”

“Is that why you have her journal?” Souji asked, gesturing to the notebook. “Hiding it from prying eyes, I presume?”

“Something like that,” Naoki snorted. “Saki’s made me carry it around ever since the last time Mom and Dad read it. Not sure what kind of sense that makes, considering I’m outside of the town more often than not, so she can’t even write in it half the time, but whatever. That’s not what I was trying to tell you.” Naoki turned the notebook over in his hands.

“Her agenda and her journal are linked with a one-way enchantment, so the agenda is always copied over to the journal, but not the other way around. I’m supposed to review the agenda parts every time they update, but not look at the journal parts. I usually try not to peek because I like to think I’m not a shitty person, but whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Saki always knows when I peek anyway, and she gives me this disappointed look and doesn’t talk to me for three weeks. Healer Shiroku always knows when I’ve pissed Saki off, too, so she assigns me gross work for like two months afterwards. Long story short, it’s not worth it.”

Souji tried very hard not to ask whether this story had a point or not.

Fortunately, Naoki wasn’t done yet. “Anyway, her last agenda entry is really all I can contribute to the investigation. Might be useless, but who knows.” He opened the book up to a page somewhere in the last third of the journal. “She was trying to sort through the shop’s budget for next month, scheduled in an hour or so of use on the public scrying glass, and then had a meeting with Dojima planned. If she knew I was coming I’d probably be in the agenda too.”

Souji’s mouth opened, their eyes widening. “Thank you, Naoki. This could actually be very useful.” Thinking, they tapped the self-correcting parchment in their hands into an unmarked sheet. “The attack would have to have occurred between using the scrying glass and the talk with Dojima. Do you have records of who she contacted?”

Naoki nodded. “She contacted several of Mayumi’s coworkers, Taro Namatame, and the Fennecian Knight’s Guild—probably to either report the attack or check your credentials.”

Souji brought their hand to their face, bemused. “That’s weird. No one seemed to know about the attacks when I reported in…” They hummed. Something wasn’t adding up. Bemused, they latched onto the next most readily apparent issue. “Who’s Taro Namatame?”

Naoki grimaced. “He’s the reason Mayumi came back. They had an affair, it got out to the public, and Mayumi fled to Inaba. I guess Saki decided he deserved to know what happened.”

“Ah.” In a flash, Souji remembered Adachi telling them about how an information dispensary worker had escaped to Inaba after a scandal. “I see.” They nodded to themself.

“Thank you for the information, Naoki. This is really— This might really come in handy.”

Naoki waved a hand. “Just try to get Saki and Mayumi back, okay? And get a temporal mage or two out here sometime soon.”

“Now that you mention it,” Souji said, “my friend has reported that a mage will be ready for transport within the next two days.”

The expression on Naoki’s face had been worth it, even if the claim that Souji had been holding back on him had been patently false.

 

* * *

 

“Souji!” Teddie bounded up to Souji with all of the enthusiasm of a dog meeting new friends. “You haven’t visited us in ages,” they whined. 

Souji shook their head, smiling in amusement. “I visited yesterday.”

“Well, you did, but that’s still a long time. I had a bunch of thoughts since then,” Teddie insisted, “and you’re way better at thoughts than Yosuke is.”

“Oh, really? How does Yosuke react to your thoughts, then?”

Teddie sagged. “He gets frustrated. I know things, but not everything, and when he asks how I know things, I don’t know! So I was thinking about why I don’t know why I know things, and I was thinking that maybe I was just meant to know them, so I looked over to tell Yosuke that, and he was asleep!”

“He fell asleep while you were trying to talk to him?” Souji frowned. “That’s rather rude of him.”

“Oh, no. He fell asleep while I was thinking. He just didn’t wake up when I wanted to tell him about it.” Teddie frowned. “Yosuke sleeps a lot.” They pointed behind them, gesturing at Yosuke. He was lying in the sun, face down in the grass with the scrying glass beside him.

“I see,” Souji said, trying not to laugh. “Well, what kind of thoughts have you had, other than that one?”

“Oh! Well, I thought that it was weird that Chie is so far away and yet she can talk to us!” Teddie gestured towards the scrying glass behind them.  “And I thought it was even weirder that you’d travel from a place so unbearably far away to get here. After that, I started thinking about your persona, and how after you fought Yosuke’s shadow he got a persona, and how I had just accepted that without thinking it was weird, and how that made it weirdest of all!” Teddie waved their hands in the air, gesturing emphatically. “It should have been a feeling like, ‘oh, that was unexpected and surprising!’ But instead it was, ‘Souji is really cool, and I’m glad they won!’ I mean, I would have had that thought anyway, but it would have probably gone along with, ‘whoa, what is that,’ like Yosuke’s thoughts did. I just accepted that you both had personas, and I knew what they were, and I was able to explain them to you without knowing why I knew those things!”

Souji made a soft sound of understanding. “And when you said this to Yosuke—“

“He said that he’d already been asking me about that for the past few days and that he gave up because it was no use getting mad at me but ‘this is getting really frustrating’.”

“And it must be even more frustrating for you,” Souji finished.

Teddie hesitated, and then answered in the affirmative. “I don’t know why I know these things. I’m as curious as anyone else.”

Souji patted them on the head. “I have a feeling that if we keep coming across shadows, we’ll find out more information about them. They tend to be a talkative bunch; I’m sure they’ll let something slip about you.”

Teddie brightened. “I might be able to— Wait,” Teddie paused, sobering. “If we run into more shadows, more people will have been attacked.”

Souji winced. “I’m afraid so, Teddie. I think you said something about it earlier, but the attacks are increasing. I’m worried that Yosuke won’t be the last target just because we defeated his shadow.”

Teddie considered this, drooping. “You’re right. The shadows won’t stop.” Within moments, they looked back up, practically shining with optimism. “But you can beat ‘em! They won’t be able to bear a full assault from Souji!”

Souji blinked slowly. “Uh, Teddie, I’m still not sure how I managed to defeat Yosuke’s shadow.”

Teddie bounced in place in excitement. “That’s okay! I don’t know how I know what I know, and you don’t know how you can do what you do, but we’re working together anyway!”

There wasn’t any foreseeable response to Teddie’s enthusiasm that would make Souji’s point without disappointing the bear, so Souji opted for a strategic retreat. “You might have a point there, Teddie.”

“Of course I do!”

Smiling wryly, Souji walked past Teddie to approach Yosuke. After a few moments, however, they noticed that they weren’t being followed.

Souji paused. “Is something wrong, Teddie?”

Teddie shifted their weight, ducking their massive head. “I don’t want to make Yosuke upset again.”

“Yosuke won’t be upset,” Souji protested. “And if he does get frustrated, I’ll talk to him.”

Teddie was quiet.

Considering them with a long, evaluative look, Souji sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Teddie. I’ll take care of things.”

“Souji?”

They crossed over to Teddie to pat them on the shoulder. “We’ll work things out. I promise.”

After hesitating for a beat, Teddie brightened, emanating trust as if it made up most of their composition. “Of course we will!”

Souji tried their best to ruffle the patch of Teddie’s fur that most resembled hair, to Teddie’s apparent delight. They then turned around, ready to deal with the third member of their party as necessary.

Over the past few days Souji had discovered that Yosuke tended to shift in his sleep, as he was napping more often than not in the daytime.

That day he had a fully formed snout, his face more lupine than usual. Aside from that, all seemed normal. His tail would swish occasionally, and one of his digitigrade paws would kick out, but all set aside, he still looked recognizably human.

Souji plopped down beside him, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Time to wake up,” they said.

Yosuke slowly shifted his face to better accommodate the formation of words. “Don’t want to,” he answered. After a pause, he added, “you can keep doing that, though. A little to the right, please.”

“I’m not quite sure that you deserve it, right now,” Souji said, withdrawing their hand. Instead, they reached into their bag, resurfacing with a shirt and a simple binder.

“You wanted something with this neckline, right?”

Yosuke blinked up at them without comprehension before shooting up all at once. “Holy shit! You actually got me— Thanks! Holy shit, thank you.”

Souji shifted uncomfortably, feeling their ears warm with a flush. “You really don’t need to thank me. You said you’ve needed new stuff for a while, and walking into Inaba would raise a lot of questions right now.” They shrugged, and then changed the subject.

“Are the colors alright? I didn’t know what you might like, and there was a definitive lack of options since, well, you know how hard some dyes can be to obtain when you’re this far from a trading hub.”

“Oh, I can’t see most colors,” Yosuke said, examining the clothing. “This is really nice, Souji. Seriously, thank you. This cuirass is a pain in the ass when it comes to chafing, and my old binder’s just—“ His ears flicked back in displeasure. “Yeah. I really needed this.”

“You’re welcome,” Souji said. Cocking their head, they studied Yosuke. “Is your inability to see many colors the reason you dyed your hair like that?”

“No, Souji, that’s a thing called my roots are showing, and the thing you did just now is called being insensitive and rude.”

Souji winced. “Sorry. However, I would like to point out that I was referring to the color, not the roots.”

Yosuke blew his tongue out between his lips, making a vulgar sound. “Used to get my dad to do it. Chie would help. I tried to dye it on my own whenever I had some cash to spare from whatever odd jobs I picked up, but I guess I didn’t quite match the shade they got.”

He paused as an idea struck him. “Unless they made my hair look weird on purpose.” He squinted into the trees, as if they hid his father and Chie in the midst of conspiring against him. “I’ll have to ask Chie the next time she calls.”

“That should be an interesting conversation,” Souji said, amused.

“You would think so, you eavesdropper.”

“I will have you know that my ability to overhear things that I ought not means that I actually know when a threat is approaching and can respond, rather than continuing to sleep on my side in the middle of a forest.”

Yosuke rolled his eyes. “If I smelled a threat, I would have been prepared. I knew it was you.”

“You say that, and yet the first time you saw me, I nearly impaled you.”

Yosuke shifted his paws into hands to count off on them. “One: I had a human nose at that moment. Two: you have some weird contrast going on with the forest and it was very alarming. Three: I was being strategic. Four—“

“Contrast? I thought the color thing…” Souji’s brow wrinkled.

Yosuke’s ears flicked. “Colors look weird to me and I don’t see the difference between a bunch. Doesn’t mean you blend in with the forest.”

“Ah. I see.”

Yosuke whistled. “It’s actually kind of weird, because the colors I see shift a little bit when I shift my eyes. I don’t do it much because, hello, headaches, but…” he shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”

With that, he climbed to his feet, stretching. “Anyway, on to an even weirder point: why is Teddie pretending that I can’t see him if they hide behind that tree?”

Souji stared up at him for a long moment, measuring him. Yosuke shifted a bit, seeming to grow more uncomfortable as the silence stretched on.

Finally, Souji spoke.“Teddie thinks you don’t want them around,” they said, watchful for Yosuke’s reaction.

Yosuke winced. “Ah. Yeah, that might do it.”

He was quiet for a minute. When Souji said nothing more, he began to speak again. “Okay, so, I feel bad about it. I really do. It’s just that I keep wondering why they have to be so godsdamned vague all the time. I mean, I try to be patient, but it’s just really frustrating to never get a straight answer.”

Souji hummed, considering this. “Yosuke, why do you transform in your sleep?”

“Huh?” Yosuke wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. It just happens. What does that have to do with—“

“Why do you think you inherited the shifting ability from your mother? Haven’t you mentioned that your father could enchant his wares? Why didn’t you inherit his abilities?”

“Souji, I don’t know.” Yosuke’s face scrunched up in frustrated bemusement. “Why are you… Oh.” Yosuke’s face lit up in understanding before falling again. He lifted his face to the sun, eyes shut in dismay. “I’m an asshole.”

Souji patted him on the shoulder. “Just a little bit.”

Yosuke groaned. “You were supposed to argue.”

“That would be counterintuitive to reinforcing any good habits you might pick up.” Shaking their head, Souji rubbed his back. “This way, you’ll eventually get to a place where I won’t have to call out your hypocrisy.”

Yosuke squinted at them. “Thanks, Partner. That’s reassuring,” he drawled.

“I’m electing to ignore the potentially sarcastic delivery and will instead say that you’re welcome.”

“You can’t just ignore— Oh!” Yosuke cut himself off, looking down at the scrying glass. It began to emanate the bright light that signaled an incoming connection.

“Chie shouldn’t be calling until this evening, right?” Souji hummed, biting their lip. “Maybe I should— Or you could pick it up and completely ignore my advice. That works too.”

“Relax, Souji, I always shift the wolf stuff away before I answer, just in case.”

This was not reassuring to Souji, as they had a very distinct memory of Yosuke panicking and reverting into his usual state upon first seeing Chie on the scrying glass.

“Hey, Chi— Oh.” Yosuke paused, looking down at the scrying glass. “Souji, you were right. I was very wrong. Take the glass, please.”

Souji slipped the scrying glass out of his hand as quickly as they could. “Hello?”

Professor Igor peered at them, an amused grin stretched taut across his face. “Hello, Seta. I see you’ve made new friends. That’s very,” he paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, “gratifying.”

Souji’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I confess that I have very little clue as to why that would matter to you, Professor,” they replied. “I imagine that you have some reason for contacting me.”

“Anything the mind may conceive has the capacity to be proven true, just as it can be proven false,” Igor said. “Unfortunately, I do not believe we have time to use guesswork with regards to the matter at hand.”

Souji blinked, stunned. “You’re going to give me straightforward answers?”

“Oh, Seta, nothing is ever straightforward.”

Yosuke muttered something that sounded like, “you’re telling me.”

Souji pressed on. “What is it that you need to tell me, Professor?”

Professor Igor gave them a knowing look, interlocking his fingers. “I see that you have awakened your persona without properly preparing.” He shook his head. “It is a good thing you did not attempt to summon another. You might still be recovering, then.”

“Another?” Teddie’s voice rung loud in Souji’s ear. Souji turned, baffled, to see that the bear had approached while they had been talking with Professor Igor.

“Souji can summon more personas?”

“That would not be wise at the moment, I’m afraid,” Professor Igor said. He shook his head. “No, no. That wouldn’t do at all.”

“Wait one moment,” Souji said, their throat clenching. “How did you even— How do you know about personas? Is this what you meant with your weird, cryptic remarks?” They swallowed, attempting to appear collected in front of Yosuke and Teddie. Steadying their voice, they spoke again. “What do you know about personas and shadows?”

Professor Igor frowned. “I truly am sorry, Seta. I cannot tell you much of what you wish to know. I only meant to inform you that you should be wary in using your personas, for their aid shall come with a cost, and that there is trouble ahead.”

Souji was prepared to lash out until Teddie shifted at their side. Within a moment, Souji felt the weight of hypocrisy settle on their shoulders. They couldn’t condemn Igor for being unable to impart every detail— not when Teddie was there, worrying about the gaps in their knowledge, and not when Yosuke was there, growing and learning.

Souji bit the inside of their cheek, hard. “Is there any advice that you are able to give us, then? Perhaps you might provide contact information for someone who is experienced with summoning magic, for instance.”

“Unfortunately, those with the abilities you imagine are bound to their own kingdom. Perhaps one day you may meet them, but for now…” Igor shook his head. “It is impossible.”

“However,” he said, “I can offer you the services of my information network.”

Souji squinted. “Why do you require the use of an information network?”

“I’m afraid I am not at leisure to disclose the details of that matter, either.” He picked up a long, sharp quill from his desk, examining it. “Truly regretful, that.” Returning his gaze to the glass, he stared long and hard at Souji. “Do not seek the members out. They will find you, and you will know them when you see them.”

This made as much sense as anything else Igor had said. Bitter and confused, Souji saw no choice. “I understand.”

“Then we have an accord.” Igor nodded, pleased. “Remember that verbal contracts are binding, Seta. Farewell.”

With that, the scrying glass winked out, the light fading from it faster than embers in water.

All was silent for a moment, only interrupted by a soft, “Souji?”

“Yes, Yosuke?” Souji kneaded at the bridge of their nose, feeling their former energy dissipate.

“You were right. I did not like your professor.”

* * *

**“Do not judge others, you say. Do not mock them. Do not grow angry if you do not understand their circumstances.”**

**“How can you be so incapable of seeing your own hypocrisy? Do not judge others! Do not grow angry! Do not let these thoughts, these emotions, these viscerally human things taint your holy being.”**

**“You say that ‘we are all human; we make mistakes,’ and yet you will not forgive when it is your turn to do so.”**

**“How dare you? How dare you apologise, grovel, condemn, shout, and preach? You, who have failed every test that you set before others, do this.”**

**  
“How disgusting.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Naoki and Saki so much. I am constantly upset about the Konishi kids.
> 
> Also! Welcome to the part of the fic where I really start messing with the plot. This wouldn't be any fun if y'all could predict everything that happens, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a short break before everything goes to hell.

Nanako would wake up before Souji, occasionally. On such days Souji would wake to the sound of knocking, to which they would usually respond that they were well on their way to consciousness. After getting dressed, they would walk down to the living area where Nanako would be sitting, and together they would make breakfast.

The day after receiving Igor’s baffling message, Souji took a much longer time to get dressed. They spent a while sitting at the edge of their pallet, thinking about the advice, as they had late into the previous night. They then spent a while standing up, looking down at their clothes and thinking about the taciturn manner in which they had delivered Naoki’s information about Saki to Chie and Yosuke, afterwards, and how they would need to apologise. Then, pausing in the middle of pulling on their shirt, they wondered if they would have to deal with any more nasty surprises.

They might have spent even more time mulling over these subjects if it weren’t for Nanako.

Knocking at the door once more, she sighed loudly enough for Souji to hear it through the wood. “You’re taking a really long time, Souji. Should I make breakfast by myself so you can sleep?”

“Sorry, Nanako,” Souji apologized. “I’ll be right out.” Pulling their shirt on quickly, Souji swung open the door. “How does rice porridge sound?”

“Can we add cinnamon?”

Souji’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I’ll have to check to see how much I have left, but if we have some, then sure, Nanako.”

Nanako bounced on her heels before shooting off to the kitchen. She beamed at Souji, and then started grabbing everything they’d need.

After retrieving the cast iron pot, she smiled, and Souji immediately knew what was coming. “How much porridge can a porridge pot hold?” She started to a beat, looking up at Souji expectantly.

Indulging her, Souji countered with, “It can hold all the porridge ‘till the porridge gets cold.”

“How long do we have ‘till the porridge gets cold?”

“The porridge stays hot until we’re wrinkly and old.”

“If the porridge is too hot, then how can we eat?” Nanako started to giggle. Souji had noticed the next line was always her favorite part.

“Then we all eat the fire and the meal is complete,” Souji deadpanned, trying to deliver the line as seriously as possible.

It had the intended effect. Nanako burst into peals of laughter.

Smiling down at her, Souji could think that maybe things weren’t as bad as Igor made them out to be. Maybe everything would turn out all right.

This conviction only strengthened after Dojima joined them, a rare grin on his face, and told Souji that the temporal mage had arrived some time during the night.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Souji noticed, upon entering the manor, was the sheer mass of people. Inaba did not have a large population, but it looked as if each and every villager had crammed themself into the foyer of the public building.

Souji took a deep breath to steady themself, then set about navigating the crowd. It took time, especially considering that several of the villagers seemed confused, and Souji felt the need to supply what information they could. Nevertheless, they eventually made their way to the room where they usually found Saki, still unconscious.

It was a nasty surprise, then, when they swung open the door to find the imbalanced, warped picture of chairs facing nothing. They loomed over a blank space in the picture, posed as watchful guardians with nothing to guard.

Souji felt their stomach twist, and the only thing that would come to mind was a memory of Kou, rolling his eyes as they trudged through mud on a hunting expedition. “Bodies don’t vanish, Souji.”

Within moments, they shut the memory down. Saki wasn’t a lost rabbit, and there were valid reasons she might have been moved. Trying to convince themself to shake the deep-seated wrongness of the situation off, they tried to think logically. She might have been moved in order to make the temporal mage’s job easier.

There was only one way to find out if this was the case. Backing out of the room, they hurried down the hallway, heading towards Mayumi’s room, peering into any empty rooms they encountered, just in case.

Upon entering Mayumi’s room, they let out a relieved sigh. The room was nearly full for how small it was, but Souji could clearly see the two women laying on their futons.

“Hey,” one of the people standing startled, turning at the sound of the door opening, “we were very clear about no one being allowed to come in—Souji!”

The end of their statement ending in a delighted squeal, the figure ran over to Souji and all but embraced them.

Bewildered, Souji looked down into the excited face of Ai Ebihara.

“You absolute ass!” Ai exclaimed, the sting of her words taken out by her obvious glee. “You need an expert in teleport and you don’t think to ask me?”

Souji blinked down at her, feeling themself smile in bemusement. “It’s almost court season; I thought you’d be busy! You’re always busy during court seas—“

“Excuse me, but when has work ever been more important than getting the hell out of Fenneca for a break?” She held up a finger before Souji could answer. “The answer is never, and also I am getting paid for this, so you don’t have to do your whole responsibilities lecture thing. I got it, I love you, thank you for caring, etcetera etcetera.” Indeed, she appeared to be wearing the black doublet that served as her uniform as a transport officer, rather than any of her more ostentatious clothes.

Behind her, Souji spotted Naoki looking from Souji to Ai as if he had difficulty picturing them living in the same plane of existence, much less the same room.

Ai clapped her hands suddenly. “Oh, right! While we’re on the subject of people fussing over other people and you being an ass: will you let Kou and Daisuke know that you’re still alive? Nothing kills the cuddling mood more than your datemates deciding that they need to spend the next hour worrying about your ex.” She rolled her eyes, an affectionate smile in place. “Never mind that they could actually, I don’t know, contact you first. I threatened to just light up your scrying mirror, and they started whining about how they didn’t want to seem overprotective, and I’m just sitting here thinking, “okay, but you two are the most overprotective softies I have ever seen,” but it’s their decision, y’know?” She crossed her arms. “Okay, long story short, tell your friends that you’re okay, you butt.”

Souji couldn’t help it. They started to laugh. “Gods, I’ve missed you, Ai.” They shook their head. “It wasn’t as if you were worrying about me as well, right?”

She flushed. “Like I said, worrying kills the cuddling mood.” Huffing, she turned to the rest of the group. “Anyway, let me introduce you to the temporal mage you requested. She’s so cute.”

Souji felt their brow furrow in confusion. Ai was not often moved to call others cute.

Their unspoken question was quickly answered, however, when Ai gestured to a very small elderly person. “This is Mrs. Kuroda; she can keep people locked in one moment for ages. It’s really creepy, but also really cool. I wish I could do something like that. You could piss me off, and then, bam, you’re in time prison until I’m not mad anymore.”

Mrs. Kuroda smiled at Ai, her eyes sad and soft around the edges. “It’s harder for the young, I’m afraid. You find it difficult to let moments go, and so you don’t always know which are the important ones, the ones that need to be kept.”

Naoki caught Souji’s eye again as his father turned away from the conversation they’d been holding. Gesturing at Ai and Mrs. Kuroda, he mouthed a vague question as to what was transpiring.

Souji shrugged. What little they knew, they couldn’t communicate through hand gestures, shadow puppets, or lip reading. “Don’t worry,” they mouthed.

Naoki grimaced at them and jerked his head towards his parents. “Not me,” he seemed to say.

When Souji turned back toward Ai and Mrs. Kuroda, Ai had an amused grin in place. “You know you’re not suddenly invisible just because you’re talking to someone else, right?”

Mrs. Kuroda, on the other hand, looked wistful. “You know, you look just like someone I used to know. He went grey early on as well.”

Souji shifted their weight, unsure of how to react to this sudden scrutiny. Taking pity on them, Ai reached out to ruffle their hair.

“I remember being a bit of a heel about their hair when we first met,” she said. “Souji had these long silver braids that were absolutely gorgeous, and I got so jealous.” She winced. “I think I said something about being able to get them a deal on better dye. It was really awful, especially when Souji got this expression on their face,” she made a vague gesture before pulling down the corners of her mouth and making her eyes go wide and hurt, “and told me that was just their natural color. I was shit at apologizing back then, too.”

Souji nodded. “You really were. You forced me to go shopping with you, brought me to a market stall, bought most of their hair accessories, told me that “oh, my hair isn’t thick enough for these after all,” made me take them, and walked off before I could give them back.”

“I thought that was a valid attempt at reconciliation!”

“The anatomy of an apology consists of “I am sorry I did that,” followed by, “I will not do it again,” Ai,” Souji chided.

“I know that now, Souji. I said I thought it was, not that I still do.”

Mrs. Kuroda smiled at them, looking from Souji’s face to Ai’s. “There are always hazards to knowing someone for too long, aren’t there?”

Souji nodded. “In my experience, yes. It’s often worth it, however.”

Reaching her hand out to pat their arm, Mrs. Kuroda inclined her head. “I hope you still think that long after you reach my age.”

Ai laughed. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Souji’s always been an old person, deep inside.”

Souji poked her good-temperedly. “And I suppose that makes you the immature one.”

“Excuse you; I live and breathe maturity,” Ai said, eyes lit with mischief.

“Which is why you’ve completely ignored the particulars of your job in order to banter with me, right?”

Gaping, Ai crossed her arms. “I did my job. I brought Mrs. Kuroda here and introduced you two. Now I get to lie about and recuperate until I have enough energy to go back, should anyone at Fenneca actually need me for—“ she stopped mid-sentence, then knocked at the side of her head with her fist. “I almost forgot. Come over here, you dork.”

Souji eyed her quizzically. “Why?”

“Just do it,” she said, waving her hand. “It’ll only take a second; I promise.”

Tentatively, Souji approached Ai.

She promptly took their face in her hands and squinted up into their eyes. After a moment, she patted their face and released them, smiling broadly. “You’re in the clear. Everyone in Fenneca must have been told twice over to check for gold eyes. Higher-ups’ve been saying that you reported it in as a symptom of people who are about to be attacked, or something.” She waved her hand. “I’m not sure on the details, but the short of it is that we’re supposed to report gold eyes like the second we see them.”

“I see,” Souji said. “Yes, that does seem like it would be more effective than just waiting around.” Especially if it might give defenseless people more time to prepare themselves. The shadows’ attacks didn’t seem like something to treat lightly.

Thinking of the shadows and their victims, Souji swept their gaze over the bodies lying on the floor. “So, did you…” They directed their inquiry towards Mrs. Kuroda, but kept their eyes fixed downwards.

“Oh, yes, that business is done.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “They won’t be able to hear or think anything, but at least they’ll be free of those nightmares they were grappling with.” She smiled, her eyes sad and soft around the edges. “And they won’t starve to death, now. All we just need to worry about now is finding a way to wake them up before I die of old age.”

Souji gaped at her, stricken.

Mrs. Kuroda held up a pacifying hand. “Oh, don’t mind me, that’s a long while off! Oh dear, that was just something to lighten the mood. It didn’t help at all, did it?” She hummed in concern, patting Souji’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

Ai winced. “Thanks for trying, Mrs. Kuroda, but this worrywart doesn’t always respond well to humor.” She turned to Souji.

“Listen, don’t stress out about this, okay? I talked with Lieutenant-Commander Adachi just this morning, and he’s sure we can figure out a way to beat those shadow things you found within like a week.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine time for him to actually get invested in something gone wrong, but you take what you can get, right?”

Souji blinked, adjusting themself to Ai’s pace. “Oh, you would have to report that your arrival was successful, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course. Like I said, I’m a professional.” She sniffed, smoothing down her uniform.

Souji laughed. “Mrs. Kuroda had to remind you, didn’t she?”

Wincing, Ai stuck her tongue out at them. “ Okay, that’s it. Time to move on.” She grasped their shoulders, a humorous endeavor considering their relative heights, and gently pushed them back towards the other side of the room. “Besides, tinier Konishi wanted to ask you something or other, and I don’t want you looking back at the bodies and passing out.”

“I’m not fragile, Ai,” Souji objected.

“Excuse me, you are a tiny flower in the wind who must be protected at all costs, and it’s way more productive for you to talk to tiny Konishi about whatever his deal is than to stare down at people who are literally taking a free time-out from existing. Now stop stressing out; you’ll give yourself wrinkles before the year is up.”

“Maybe I want to look mature and impressive. It’ll go well with my hair.”

“I will refuse to acknowledge we ever dated,” Ai said, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, sure, we’ll still be best friends, but I am just going to refuse to remember the dating parts of our interactions.”

“You are endlessly cruel to me and my premature wrinkles,” Souji said.

“It’s a flaw I’m surprisingly okay with,” Ai drawled. “Now go talk with Tiny,” she finished, shooing them onwards.

When Souji finally meandered over to Naoki, he was squinting across the room at Ai. “I know that she knows I have a name. We introduced ourselves. She obviously remembers my last name. Why do I have to be remembered as Tiny?”

Souji snorted. “Because Ai sees things a certain way, and only the gods can save you if you try to convince her there’s another perspective.”

Naoki nodded at them. “I have no clue what that means, but I’m not going to ask because I have a feeling it will end in me having to listen to several years’ worth of stories.”

Souji opened their mouth, then closed it. “You probably make a valid point there.”

Naoki shrugged. “It happens on occasion.”

Souji smiled a bit, then sobered. “Ai told me that you had something to tell me.”

Nodding, Naoki grimaced. “She, uh, filled us in about some of the stuff regarding the attacks.” His gaze sharpened. “Any reason you didn’t tell us what you knew?”

Souji winced. “I’m sorry. This is going to sound horrible.” They looked at a spot just above Naoki’s ear, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t think to tell you.”

Despite taking care not to catch his eyes, Souji could feel the way Naoki glared. “I was hoping you’d have a damn good reason for not telling me to look out for doppelgängers, Seta. That doesn’t qualify.”

“I am truly apologetic if my lack of foresight led—“

“Save it,” Naoki said. His voice was flat. “I get it. You’re in charge of the investigation, and you have no reason to trust us  with anything. Whatever. That’s not what this is about.”

“That’s not—“ Souji stopped mid-sentence at Naoki’s expression. “Alright. Fine. What do you believe this is about?”

Naoki crossed his arms. “There’s a shadow in the cellar.”

Souji blinked. “What?”

“I went down to the wine cellar this morning to take inventory. Something started whispering behind me, then screaming.” His fists clenched. “It wasn’t saying the most… pleasant stuff.”

Eyes wide, Souji stared at them in concern. “You didn’t try to attack it, did you?”

“Does it matter?” Naoki asked. “I mean, obviously I can take care of myself without the most basic advice anyway, right?”

“Naoki, I really did not—“

“No, I didn’t try to attack it. I kicked my ass into gear and got out of there. “ He looked away. “I Just thought you’d want to know,” Naoki interrupted. “Feel free to go back to whatever you were doing.”

“Right,” Souji said, hesitant. “Thank you again, Naoki.”

Naoki shrugged and turned away.

 

* * *

 

When Souji entered the clearing where they often found Teddie and Yosuke a short while later, they were met by the peculiar sight of Yosuke following the bear around with a kind of parental concern writ on his face.

“What about this?” Teddie asked, gesturing excitedly towards a bright yellow weed.

“No, Teddie, that one is a dandelion. It’s safe.”

“Even for you? You said that last one would be safe for Souji, but then you said it would kill you!” Teddie glared at a plant  in the distance as if they deemed it personally responsible for all the world’s ills.

“Yes, even for me. Plants can be strange, and they might— No, Teddie! That was not a go ahead to eat…” Yosuke rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Okay, you know what? You’re a bear suit. I’m upsetting myself over the thought of an empty bear suit poisoning themself. This is pointless.”

Souji tried to stifle a laugh, but Yosuke’s ears twitched anyway. He looked up, a relieved grin spreading across his face.

“Thank the gods. Souji, can you help me watch them before I fall over in exhaustion?”

Souji smiled. “As much as I’d like to, I’m afraid we have more pressing concerns to attend to.”

Teddie looked at them excitedly. “’We?’ What are we going to do?” They began to bounce in place. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes, Teddie, we’re going somewhere,” Souji confirmed, ruffling the patch of Teddie’s costume that most resembled hair.

Yosuke perked up. “Oh yeah?” He cocked his head, his ears twitching. “Mind if you tell us, where exactly we’re going, and why it’s important enough to interrupt our rousing game of ‘can it kill me’?”

Face setting in determination, Souji clapped a hand to Yosuke’s shoulder. “We’re going shadow hunting, and this time, we’re going in prepared.”

* * *

**“Circumstances change. No one can account for variables outside of their control. There is always error.”**

**“What petty excuses humans devise to exempt themselves from consequences.”**

**“There is truth to them, however. Life shifts and twists about you, writhing, angry. Every human is imperfect, and every decision they make shall result in pain, whether for those who choose or those around them.”**

**“The future does not belong to you. It is caged by your choices, formed and bound before you arrive at its threshold.”**

**“Yet it was made in your image. Knowing this, you step forward, unthinkingly, falteringly wandering into a prison of your own devising.”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is another chapter that was split in half because it was getting really long, but on the bright side, that means that the next chapter should be posted sooner.  
> In theory, anyway.
> 
> I ALSO FIT IN SOUJI'S BRAIDS!!! The most important part of this fic.
> 
> As a side note: trying to think up nursery rhymes? Hard. I do not recommend.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The google doc for this chapter is titled "The Part Where Things Go to Shit"

Souji jogged around the perimeter of the manor’s grounds until they reached the point where the gazebo met the copse, taking care not to jostle their lantern. There they found Yosuke in a crouch, seemingly guarding Teddie, who was lying on their back. Trying not to sigh in relief too obviously, Souji snuffed out their lantern’s light.

Yosuke cocked his head at Souji expectantly, blinking from the sudden arrival and departure of the red glare. “You managed to swing it, then?”

Lowering into a crouch beside him, Souji sighed. “It took a few hours, but yes. My uncle is now convinced that the ‘beast’ that’s been attacking people is diurnal, and is harmless at night.” They stared pensively at the manor, chewing on the inside of their cheek.  “Everything will fall apart if someone is attacked during the night, I suppose.”

Yosuke clapped a hand to Souji’s shoulder. “Then we just have to make sure no one’s attacked. Right, Partner?”

“Right!” Teddie chimed in, climbing to their feet. “No shadow can possibly win with Souji, Teddie, and Yosuke on its trail!” They posed, both arms lifted toward the sky, their face expectant and open.

Souji smiled. “Yeah,” they agreed. “They don’t stand a chance.”

A pervasive sense of unity suffused the moment, painting it with a new sense of purpose. It was a nice feeling.

Driven forth by this new determination, Souji forced themself to snap into business. “Alright. It’s almost time to get ready, so from now on we need to be quiet, okay? We will only use hand signs and sign language up until I can confirm that it is safe to talk.”

Yosuke and Teddie nodded.

“Then let’s begin.”

And with that, they began their sentinel over the manor grounds.

The manor looked different at night. Most things did, of course, but there was something daunting about walking towards a building that looked to be settling down. Washed with moonlight, still and dark, it looked as if it wished for nothing more than to be left to its rest.

Unfortunately for the manor, Souji had a task to fulfill, and it would be much harder to herd a werewolf and a bear suit around in the light of day.

Lifting a finger to their lips, they turned to Yosuke and Teddie in an effort to remind them to be quiet.

Yosuke nodded, his jaw set and eyes cast towards the manor, while Teddie continued to pick grass from where they were sitting.

Souji shut their eyes for a moment and tried very hard not to sigh. After their brief reprieve had passed, they set down their lantern in order to help Teddie up.

After doing so, they held up their right hand, waiting. A long stretch of minutes passed, and they could feel Teddie shift in agitation beside them. Yosuke, meanwhile, stood stock still but for the way his ears moved at the barest sound. Every time the wind blew, he would tense, if only just a little.

The time dragged on and on, every moment stretching into a small eternity. Souji could feel the weight of their sword and their armor pressing into them. They could feel the soft breeze flick past, apathetic, uncaring. Most of all they could feel the heavy weight of silence, accented and broken only by the sounds of movement from Souji and their companions.

It was a relief when the toll of bells filled the air and Souji could drop their hand. There would only be ten intervals before the bells stopped tolling altogether, and they needed to move quickly.

Souji strode towards the entrance, darting glances behind them to check that Teddie and Yosuke were following suit, and opened the door. They ushered their friends in, then waited carefully for the distant ring of a bell to shut the door.

Sighing in relief, they let some tension slip away. The sound of the door shutting had been absorbed by the clamor of the bells. They were safe.

Souji peered at Yosuke and Teddie in the darkness, trying to assess their wellbeing. Yosuke’s gaze darted everywhere, even as his fists clenched and his ears were drawn back tight against his skull.

Teddie, in comparison, looked as if they had never been more at ease in their life.

Biting the inside of their cheek, Souji tilted their head forward. Waving to catch Yosuke’s attention, they then tapped the side of their right hand against their left palm.

Yosuke repeated the gesture and nodded. He was alright.

Teddie— who had absolutely no understanding of sign language aside from “stop” and “hello”— waved at Souji.

That would have to suffice for a status check. They did not have time to linger.

The group moved carefully through the manor, cringing at every step that fell just a little too hard against the floor, raising a tap or clack. Yosuke had shifted away his digitigrade paws, so the click of claws on stone was absent from the air. Still every sound was met with silent prayers for safe passage.

Souji did not wince at the sounds, being well versed in the art of sneaking in and out of public areas, but found themself agonizing over their companions’ possible actions. Yosuke appeared to be taking the expedition seriously, but his habit of freezing and surveying everything around him whenever he heard something could create problems of its own. Teddie, meanwhile, was an unpredictable variable.

This was emphasized by the way Teddie consistently peered at every doorway that allowed a sliver of light to shine through its cracks, or the rare room left unbarred against the night. Every glimmer of light was a beacon in the void of the passageways, and Teddie was drawn to each one in turn.

Yosuke and Souji would manage to keep them moving along, but it took effort and time. The passages seemed endless, and the darkness lengthened them, hiding the corners and bends until the last possible moment.

Eventually they arrived at the great hall. Souji shared a meaningful glance with Yosuke before relighting their lantern. Then, in tandem, they both began to dart about, checking the antechambers at opposite sides of the massive hall.  Teddie, meanwhile, spun about, delighted at the immensity of it all.

It didn’t take long to discern which of the rooms stored the wine. Souji caught the attention of their companions as soon as they spotted the barrels. It was only when then that problems began to arise.

While Teddie seemed to be settling down, Yosuke’s face was drawn, and he was shifting his weight all too often.

“Yosuke,” Souji whispered, “are you alright?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Yosuke flushed. “I kind of have to pee.”

Souji gaped at him, incredulous. “Gods abound, Yosuke, why didn’t you pee before we left?”

“I didn’t have to go _then_.”

“Uh, Souji,” Teddie interrupted.

“Not now, Teddie.” Souji brought their hand to their face, wiping down until they were grabbing their chin. “Can you hold it?”

“Uh, for how long?” Yosuke shifted his weight again, fists clenched.

“Yosuke,” Teddie whined, voice pitching higher.

Yosuke’s ears pressed back against his head, and he let out a low whine. “I’m sorry! I just really have to pee.”

“Look, Yosuke, I realize that—“

“Souji, look out!”

The next thing Souji knew was splitting pain, and then nothing at all.

Then, after the nothingness, came the panicked voice above them. “Souji? Souji, c’mon, Partner, you gotta get up. Come on! Please!”

Souji peered up at the source of the voice, Yosuke, from the sound of it, and was surprised to see him crouched above them. Any attempt they made to move confirmed their suspicions. They were lying on the ground. Next to their hand lay the lantern, dead and flameless, but thankfully unbroken.

Oddly enough, however, the room still seemed to be lit.

“Yos’ke, how did I…?”

Yosuke sighed, his brow relaxing slightly. “Sorry, Souji, you kind of got clocked over the head. You’ve only been out for about two seconds.”

“What hit me?”

Yosuke helped Souji to their feet, supporting them when they wobbled and almost lost their balance.

“That’s, uh, kinda why I started freaking out so quickly,” Yosuke said. “We didn’t so much find the shadow as much as—“

“The shadow found us,” Souji finished, eyes fixed upon the shadow before them.

It didn’t look human. That wasn’t part of the plan.

Based on their prior experience, the shadow should have looked like either Naoki or some other inhabitant of the manor. Souji, Chie, Yosuke, and Teddie had sought to use that to their advantage, deciding that should any member of the group see a shadow, they would attack it in its presumably weaker, human state.

This shadow, however, was different.

It loomed above Souji, towering on what at first seemed to be stilts. As they caught the eye, however, they revealed themselves to be sharp and bisected in the same manner as a blade. Further along the body of the shadow, these immense daggers melded together into something like a slab upon which a single candle flickered. As improbable as this all seemed, nothing quite compared to the way the shadow’s dull metal collarbone and blank slate of a face hovered above it all with nothing to support them. A single, eyeless hole was all that interrupted the gleaming plate of the shadow’s face. Framing it all was a dark cape that moved as though wind were constantly prompting it to shift, and yet Souji could feel the still air around them.

A second glance revealed Teddie standing just beyond the shadow’s reach, leaning as far forward as they could to peer at Souji. “I tried to tell you that it was here,” they said.

“Sorry, Teddie,” Souji apologized, keeping their gaze fixed upon the shadow. “If I ever ignore you again, just remind me of this, okay?”

“Sure thing!”

Teddie seemed all too cheerful for someone who was a mere meter away from something that had proven its ability to incapacitate. It was vaguely troubling. Unable to give such thoughts their full attention, however, Souji filed them away to process later.

“Is that even a shadow?” Yosuke asked. The light of the candle should have softened the drawn lines of his face, but instead it gave him an unhealthy pallor, making him appear gaunt and ill. It made Souji uneasy.

Teddie shifted from the right to the left like a pendulum, examining the figure before them from various angles before responding. “Yes! That is most definitely a shadow!”

“Aren’t they supposed to look, I don’t know, more human?” Yosuke asked, his voice strained.

“Well, it’s not a people shadow. Oh! Well, it is a people shadow, but not a _person_ shadow. Get it?”

Souji tuned out the bickering between Yosuke and Teddie as they began to argue about whether or not Teddie was making sense. All Souji needed to know was that the creature before them was in fact a shadow. That meant that they could fight it.

More importantly, that meant they could win.

Souji drew their sword, gripping the pommel and staring the shadow down. As quick as the thing had been to strike earlier, it now seemed to waver on the long blades of its legs.

Suddenly, the flame flared, and all at once Souji could hear screaming. “Alone! Alone!” The shadow grew imposingly, then diminished, chanting and screeching all the while. “Alone! Alone! Alone! Alone!”

Out of the corner of their eye, Souji could see Yosuke bend over, clutching his ears and whimpering.

Fighting against the urge to cover their own ears, Souji winced. “Teddie, can you tell us what ‘s happening?”

Teddie seemed to stare into the distance for a long moment, and then began to speak. Souji could barely hear them over the unceasing screech.

Souji struck with their sword, steel stabbing the air above before arcing down to meet the shadow’s caged light. The grating wail of metal on metal was still a blessed relief in comparison to the shrieking refrain, especially when the wail died off. The shadow leapt back, flinging its cloak about despite having no visible arms.

“—een affected yet, so it can’t!” Teddie’s voice was loud in the sudden silence, ricocheting off the walls like an exuberant missile.

Souji maintained a defensive posture. “Care to run that past us again, Teddie?”

“This shadow can make you afraid! Once it does that, it uses the wail to kill you!”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek and tasted iron. They’d simply have to avoid losing their nerve, then. “Alright. Are there any weaknesses we can exploit?”

Teddie looked off into the distance one more, his carnival mask of a face expressionless and blank. “I’ll need another minute or so,” they said after a moment.

“Alright,” Souji agreed. “Yosuke?”

Yosuke was there in a moment, crouching low into a crouch at Souji’s side. Apparently he had recovered from the assault on his more sensitive ears. “I’m here, Partner.”

Souji could see the flash of blades in Yosuke’s hands. They’d asked Yosuke if he had any weapons aside from his teeth and claws that afternoon, and Yosuke had assured them that he did, but this was Souji’s first time seeing physical evidence of the fact.

Directing their focus away from the kunai Yosuke was wielding, Souji noted that he was examining the shadow. “The candle. We probably need to extinguish that.”

Souji grimaced. “I thought so as well. I was hoping that the metal was something I could cut through easily, but no such luck.”

Suddenly, the shadow struck, its cape whirling out like blade. Souji and Yosuke dodged in opposite directions, rolling and ducking to avoid the attack.

From across the small room, Yosuke continued the conversation. “What about our personas? I’m sure there’s some way we can use them to take this sucker down.”

Sighing, Souji responded in kind. “Well, there is the matter of me being unable to bring my horse into the manor.”

“I don’t see why! If people can sleep through this thing’s wailing, they can sleep through Izanagi prancing through the halls.”

“Izanagi does not prance,” Souji defended, sliding forward to strike at the shadow. “Besides,” they called, “Professor Igor warned us about using personas.”

“He warned you about using multiple personas,” Yosuke said, before darting forwards to slash at the shadow’s legs.

“Shit! Glanced off.” He rolled away from the giant bladelike legs, and crouched again.

“Anyway, he never said anything about you summoning Izanagi, or me taking Jiraiya out for a go.”

“He said they came at a cost, Yosuke; it doesn’t get much clearer than—“

All their breath left them. The cloak had caught them in the stomach, and they had the space to think that it didn’t seem to hurt as much as it had when they were dodging before everything cut out.

There was nothing. There was nothing but their stomach as it twisted. There was nothing but the clang of a sword falling on the tile with the echoing finality of failure. There was nothing but the sensation of falling and the pain of flesh against stone. There was nothing but the beat of their heart as it pumped and it pumped and it pumped. All there was was the darkness, and the shaking, and their teeth as they chattered against one another, and gods this was hell, Souji thought. They had not died yet, no, but they surely would because this was hell.

Every breath they drew was choked in their throat and hollow in their chest, and it wasn’t enough: not enough to fill their lungs, not enough to sustain them, not enough, not enough. They grappled at their skin and that was too much. They scratched at their arms and rubbed at the skin and it did nothing, nothing but make everything worse. Any grip on their arm, any touch, any stimulation; anything at all was too much.

They would die there. They would die there, and it would not matter if it was quickly or slowly because in the meantime they could feel themself reduced to a quivering mess that couldn’t do anything, anything at all.

They would die and it would be their fault. Their friends would die and it would be their fault. They were not dead, but they should have been. They should always have been. This was hell and they were as good as dead.

They felt a grip on their arm, and they shoved the offending object away because it was wrong, it felt awful and _wrong_ , and Souji was going to die.

“Get _away_ from me!”

“Souji, Partner, listen to me. I’m going to get you away from here.”

“Get away! Get away!” Didn’t he understand that they were going to die? That he couldn’t touch Souji because Souji couldn’t be touched, that if he didn’t run he would die here? That there was no way they would live?

“Yosuke, if it screams again, it’ll kill them!” Teddie knew. Teddie knew they were going to die. They were all going to die.

“Jiraiya!”

No. Yosuke would die. Yosuke would die with Souji and Teddie, and Yosuke didn’t even know.

Souji watched in horror as Yosuke’s persona appeared in a blaze of light. The energy had to come from somewhere. The energy had to come from Yosuke. Yosuke would die, and Souji would watch.

“Garu!” Yosuke shouted. Wind whipped around and it was loud, and it hurt, and Souji pressed his eyes closed because this is how it would end. Hell would end painfully and being new hell in death because Souji had done nothing at all to prevent this.

Souji heard the shout again, felt the wind again, and knew they would die again. They did not know how many times it would occur before they died, but they dreaded every second.

Then, all at once, the wind was gone, and they were shaking on the floor. However, they no longer felt a strong, existential dread.

It lingered around the edges of them, numbness wrapped in a pervading sense that things were wrong. This was familiar. This was the usual tinge of anxiety that colored some lonely evenings. This they could manage.

Still, Souji thought, they would much rather be slumped on the kind, supportive floor at that moment than attempting to struggle to their feet. All of their energy had fled, and the void where there emotions usually lived left them unmotivated to move.

Their plan to stare at the floor for the next hour was not to be, however. “Souji,” Yosuke’s voice was quiet. “Are you okay?”

Teddie looked ready to burst with their own inquiries, but Yosuke had his palm pressed against their mouth.

Souji nodded, but did not look up from the engaging patch of floor at which they’d chosen to stare.  “I…” They cleared their throat. “I’ll be alright.”

Yosuke looked doubtful. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know.”

Souji shook their head, looking up to argue. They paused when they spotted a number of spinning blue cards, similar to the one that appeared when Souji had called forth Izanagi’s rider.

Moving as if in a daze, Souji stretched out a hand to grasp one. The rest shattered. “Yomotsu-Shikome,” they whispered, staring down at the card in their hand. As if commanded, it shattered as well.

Something within them turned in discontent, but they were unable to place the reason why.

Disconcerted, they looked back up at Yosuke. He was blinking down at them with an expression that made him look like an oversized, concerned owl. “Was that a new persona? It’s not gonna do anything, right?”

Souji let an amused breath escape despite themself. “No, Yosuke, I think it’s just going to settle back and relax for a while.” They yawned. “Which isn’t a bad idea. Wish we could just take an empty room and sleep until morning.”

Yosuke shifted his weight uncomfortably. Souji immediately backtracked.

“We’re not actually— I mean, we’re going to follow the plan. We have to get out when the bell rings again, right?”

“Yeah,” Yosuke agreed, still looking subdued. “Yeah.”

Casting the ground another regretful glance, Souji readied themself for the colossal effort of getting to their feet.

“Do you need help getting up, or are you still not really, uh…” Yosuke made a gestured that mimicked brushing someone away.

Souji considered this for a moment. “I don’t really want anyone touching me right now,” they said, “but thank you for the offer.”

“No problem, Partner.”

Teddie, now freed from Yosuke’s muzzling, hovered around Souji like a massive bumblebee. They would flit close to Souji every time they made an attempt at moving, and then back away all at once.

“Teddie, are you alright?” Souji asked.

Teddie looked at them, and Souji could swear that there was more emotion in that caricature of a face than in any they had seen before. “You’re not dead! Souji, you aren’t dead!”

Souji couldn’t tell if Teddie was sobbing or laughing, and for a brief moment they envied them for being able to feel such intense relief. They felt guilty the moment afterward. “No, Ted, I’m still alive.”

Smiling to themself just a little, Souji repeated it. “I’m still alive.”

 

* * *

 

They regrouped in the clearing the next day. They could not have put order to their thoughts that night, not with exhaustion weighing them all down. The light of day was another matter, however.

Souji still felt tired, but most of the negative emotions of the past night had passed. Now there was simply the embarrassment of being unable to help defeat the shadow, and a determination to be better prepared for the next one.

“Alright, Teddie. Can you answer our questions about that…” Souji trailed off. They couldn’t recall what Teddie had called it.

“Phantom Master,” Teddie volunteered.

“Right, the Phantom Master.”

Teddie shifted their weight from side to side from their spot in the grass. “I should be able to! I think.”

Yosuke pulled a few blades of grass before letting them go. “What was with that shit it pulled on Souji?”

Souji could have imagined it, but it seemed like the world grew a little darker around them.

“It made them afraid so that it could use its wail,” Teddie said. “I thought I told you that it would try that before the battle started.”

Grimacing, Souji rubbed at their arm. “I think we might have misunderstood you, Teddie. I didn’t realize that it actually had the ability to induce a panic attack.”

The group was quiet for a moment.

“But, hey, we made it, right?” Yosuke broke the silence, his tail thwapping against the grass. “We survived, and we kicked that shadow’s ass. Or, well, it’s metal torso candle thing.”

Souji smiled, then frowned in thought. “Speaking of which: Teddie, why did that shadow look like it did? Aren’t they usually human in appearance?”

Teddie shook their head. “That wasn’t a person shadow; it was a people shadow.”

“You said that before,” Yosuke noted. “I still have no idea what the hell it means.”

Frowning in concentration, Teddie hummed. “A shadow that looks like a person comes from a person. A shadow that doesn’t look like a person comes from people.”

Souji cocked their head, still bemused.

On the other hand, Yosuke seemed to be grasping the concept. “Wait, you said shadows were like emotions and thoughts and stuff, right?”

Teddie nodded, rocking back and forth so quickly that Souji was afraid they would tumble over.

“So are ‘people shadows’ just ideas and emotions that come from a whole bunch of people?”

Teddie punched the air. “That’s exactly it! That’s what I was saying.”

Yosuke hooted. “Nice!” He grinned, seemingly proud of his deductions. “So what kind of idea was that shadow?”

“Loneliness,” Souji answered. They shook their head in the next instant. “No. No, I think it was fear of loneliness, actually. Fear of being alone, or something of the sort.”

“Which would explain the fear thing, and the thing it screamed. Right.” Yosuke groaned. “Way to miss the obvious, right?” He shrugged. “Well, I can’t be right all the time.”

Souji shrugged, wanting to get away from the subject. They paused. “Wait. Teddie, how come no one heard the screaming and the battle?”

Teddie, however, wasn’t paying attention. They climbed to their feet and wandered away, oblivious to Souji’s and Yosuke’s attempts to reclaim their attention.

It was soon apparent what had captured their attention, however. When Teddie returned, it was with the scrying glass. It was shining like a beacon, even in the bright sun.

“Teddie, you know it’s rude to wander off in the middle of a conversation,” Yosuke scolded.

“But it was glowing, and I don’t want Chie to be upset with me!”

“With our luck it’ll be Souji’s asshole professor again,” Yosuke grumbled, activating the glass.

Just as when Professor Igor had contacted them, the blood drained from Yosuke’s face, and just as before, Souji circled around to see the glass.

The difference was that this time, Chie’s face was displayed prominently on the other side of the glass. The only problem was the color of her eyes. They gleamed a rich, bright gold.

Then, after a terse silence, she began to speak.

“You will not believe the day I had yesterday.”

 

* * *

  
****

**“The oldest emotion is fear. It is the most motivating, the most powerful, and the most consuming.”**

**“It goes beyond humanity. It stretches and pervades and wraps around every living creature.”**

**“Yet only humans and gods use it as justification. ‘I had to do that; I was afraid,’ is chanted in tandem. The phrase is recycled again and again, and as the fear grows so do the abhorrent acts.”**

**“When fear is your justification, you create justifications for fear.”**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you probably noticed, I took some liberties and combined the Phantom Mage and the Phantom Master into some horrifying amalgamation of the two. In my defense, they’re both weak to wind, they have the exact same HP, SP, and levels, and they both have fear related skills. It all works out, right?
> 
> Anyway, due to popular request, we will be taking a short break next chapter to explore the fascinating way Kenji from P3 interacts in the SR universe. He’s a centaur. A Kentaur. 
> 
> I want it to be clear that that is a joke because could you even imagine. Just Awful.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Gals Being Pals (What's Better Than This)

**Fennecian Palace, Fenneca: Twenty-Six Hours Prior**

Blue. The room was always a deep blue, unnatural and rich. Professor Igor had to keep it maintained with magic; there was no way he could afford to dye everything that same shade of blue.

Chie shifted her weight, staring down at the table in front of her, and revised her opinion. The furniture was way too expensive-looking; it always had been. She let her fingers glide on the table, poking and pinching at it. It was too fancy, too smooth to be any good. Paper would just slide off of it, and drinks would stain it. The hewn edges of the tables and desks down in the common areas were far better, even if they spat out splinters like no one’s business.

Chie wrinkled her nose, eyeing the room around her with new suspicion. Professor Igor probably spent his free time selling artefacts illegally, or taking bribes from corrupt ambassadors.

It took all of two seconds for her to begin composing a report of suspicion in her head and subsequently dismiss it. She was being ridiculous. There was no reason to suspect Professor Igor of anything aside from being creepier than a hollow moon.

He was doing a stunning job of it, too. Professor Igor was staring straight ahead from his side of the table, thoughtfully sipping his tea, and it didn’t seem like he would stop anytime soon.

Chie tried not to sigh. She felt like she’d been kneeling for ages already. If she had known the ‘short meeting’ Professor Igor had requested would entail half an hour of him staring at a wall while they drank tea, she probably would have made excuses and avoided the whole thing.

She’d asked about the weird things he kept telling Souji, but he’d refused to give anything away. In the end, she’d resigned herself to sitting in tense silence for the next six decades.

As she waited, Chie found her eyes wandering. Aside from the eternal colour scheme and fancy furniture, the room was never exactly the same from one visit to another. It probably had something to do with the same magic that she suspected kept everything blue.

Today the room was much more simply arranged than it usually was; not that it meant much. It was still far too swanky to feel comfortable.

Last time she’d visited there had been plush chairs filling every patch of empty space. Now there wasn’t a single chair to be seen. There were, however, massive shelves lining every wall that, as far as she knew, had never appeared before.

Chie bit the inside of her cheek. Maybe it _wasn’t_ as ridiculous to suspect Professor Igor of corruption as she thought. Had she heard anything about reports of furniture theft or suspicious resales recently? She didn’t think so, but she was beginning to think that she might need to double check.

She felt her brow wrinkle in thought as she tried to recall whether any of her friends had been assigned to trade supervision recently.

“—believe you have not been listening, Miss Satanoka.”

Chie was jolted from her thoughts all at once. “Ah, sorry, Professor. I was just—”

“Absorbed in your thoughts.” Professor Igor grinned, interlacing his fingers before him. “That heralds a great many things, you know. Thought begets decisions, leading to one of two things.” He held up two fingers. “Action,” one finger dropped, “or inaction.” The other finger followed. “You are more inclined toward the former, if I recall correctly.”

Chie wrinkled her nose. “How can something ‘lead’ to inaction? It’s just things staying the same.” She could have smacked herself. The last thing this already uncomfortable meeting needed was a philosophy lecture, and she had just invited the topic in.

“The same?” Professor Igor asked. He tutted. “No, no. Many things can occur due to inaction. Civilizations could rise and fall by the grace of inaction. It can be the easiest or hardest course to follow; a boon or a hamartia.” He cocked his head. “Not to say that this isn’t true of action as well.”

Chie nodded, trying to appear engaged. “I see.”

Igor’s eyebrow looked as if it would rise past his hairline and into the air. “Do you now? I wonder.”

It felt like something twisted and sank in Chie’s stomach. She tried to resist wondering what the hell she could have done to make his opinion of her seem so low. It shouldn’t matter what he thought. It shouldn’t matter what anyone thought. She knew her own abilities.

Still, she felt a familiar weight in her stomach and throat. It burnt like shame and she hated it.

“Do you, perhaps, know what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, Miss Satanoka?” Professor Igor’s lecture hadn’t ended, apparently.

“There’s no such thing,” Chie answered automatically. “As an immovable object, I mean.” She  bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t really thought before she had answered, but she’d be damned if she was wrong.

“Oh?” Professor Igor seemed amused. “Most people say that the two cancel one another out, you know, or that one existing would negate the existence of the other.” He chuckled. “In the case of the latter, I find it interesting that you immediately stated that it was the object that couldn’t possibly exist.”

Chie set her jaw. “It makes sense. I’ve travelled across Perfoula and back without seeing anything that couldn’t be moved. Even the mountains change over time— the maps in the archives prove it.”

“And you’ve seen a force that couldn’t be stopped, then?”

“Yes.”

If Professor Igor was expecting any further explanation, he would be sorely disappointed. Chie wasn’t in the mood.

They both knelt in silence for a moment, staring across the table at one another. Chie really wished Professor Igor didn’t look so damned smug all the time.

“May you never be proven wrong, then, Miss Satanoka.” He reached for his tea. “And if you are, may you learn from it.”

Chie narrowed her eyes at him. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Professor.”

“But of course.”

There was another moment of silence that seemed to last forever. Then, something in the air broke. Chie had had enough.

“Is there any reason you wanted to talk to me, or should I just leave?”

The professor peered at her with his bloodshot, unblinking stare, and leaned back. “I wanted to ask you about the immovable object and the unstoppable force, of course.” He paused. “Well, that, and I wanted to inform you of two things: trust the lessons that took the longest to learn, and remember to identify what, exactly, is the unstoppable force.”

Chie blinked. “Any chance you’re gonna supply an explanation for those, or…?”

“I have provided all that you require.”

Chie set down her cup. “Right. In that case, I think we’re done here. I should probably go prepare for my shift.” She rose to her feet. “Thanks for the tea, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Satanoka. I wish you good luck in the trial ahead.”

Chie barely heard the end of his sentence, since it was punctuated by her escape. That damn room was downright claustrophobic.

Once she’d made it further down the hallway, she felt much better. Goodbye, weight in her stomach; goodbye, confusing philosophical bullshit. All she had to do now was rush down to her quarters, spend a couple minutes spoiling Muku, put on her armor, and get ready to stand around while Yukiko exchanged pleasantries with some ambassadors for a few hours. Easy.

Goal set, she turned around the corner, and promptly crashed into someone.

Chie jumped back, instinctively lowering her hips and shifting back her left foot. The other person stumbled back, looking confused.

Relaxing, Chie assumed a more casual stance and rubbed the back of her head. “Oh, I’m sorry; I should have been looking where I was going. Are you okay?” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Shit. I might have bruised you; I tend to just charge ahead. I mean, I’m not wearing my armor, so you’re probably better off than if I’d been wearing like forty extra pounds of metal and leather.”

She froze and held up her hands. “Not to say that it’s better that I crashed into you this way, or that I’m trying to weasel out of anything! I mean, if you’re really hurt, I could take you down to the healers! I know the way by heart, especially with how many times I’ve been injured. I must be completely made out of scar tissue by now, you know?” She forced out a laugh.  

“Okay, I’m just, uh, gonna stop talking now, and let you answer. Right. Sorry.”

The person she’d crashed into had a drawn, wan sort of face. They didn’t look like they were that healthy in the first place. Their short brown hair seemed plastered to their head, presumably with sweat.Their skin seemed drawn over their bones, like he hadn’t been eating recently, and they were as pale as a deathless moon. Considering her experience helping her friends when they were five seconds away from a panic attack, Chie was fairly certain she knew when someone was about to break down. She was pretty sure, then, that she was about to find out that she’d unintentionally become the final nail in the coffin, and that the stranger would just start crying, or cursing, or both.

In reality, their reaction was far less climactic, and much stranger. Instead of looking angry, they seemed to settle down, if only a little bit. Then, they looked at her the same way Souji had looked at Yukiko when they’d finished reading the tragedy she’d recommended to them. It was weird, and uncomfortable, and sad.

“No,” they said. “I think I should be the one to apologize to you.”

“Ah, uh, I was the one who should have been looking where I was going, so there’s really no need for you to apologize,” Chie said, shaking her head. “But yeah. You’re not injured, are you?”

The stranger shook their head, and then began to walk back down the hallway. “No,” they said, without turning back to look at her. “You have not hurt me.”

“Okay,” Chie said, dragging the word out. “That’s good. Glad you’re not… and you’re gone. Okay then.”

She puffed out her cheeks, looking between where the stranger had vanished and the corner that she had been heading toward. Biting the inside of her cheek, she nodded. “Right.”

It took half a second for her to wheel in place and start jogging towards the stranger.

“Hey, I was serious about taking you to see a healer,” she said as soon as she caught up. “You look really bad. No offense intended! I just think that it’d be a good idea to get things checked out.” She waved a hand. “It seems like you’re kind of detached right now, and the healers are really good with grounding and stuff. I mean, they taught me a few tricks for my anxiety, and they were really helpful! And you might also be sick.”

The stranger looked down at her and frowned. “No. No, that won’t be necessary. I have to help.”

Chie set her jaw. “I’m pretty sure that whatever you’re helping with can wait for you to feel better.”

The stranger shook their head. “No. No, it can’t.”

Chie was about to argue, when she heard a shriek from the direction she had been heading before chasing after the stranger. She spun around, covering meters in seconds before she even registered she was doing so.

The shriek was unending, falling and rising in pitch without stuttering. The sound felt like fire licking at her back, heat rising, smoke filling and burning her lungs. The sound hurt in ways that sound shouldn’t hurt, dredging up memories of near-forgotten pain and the urge to run anywhere, anywhere but here. It was the sound of a Phoenix screaming.

The last time a Phoenix had screamed, Chie had been much younger. She and all the pages had grabbed their ears, many of them crying for help. Chie had tried to make ice, but everytime she tried, only water would condense. She tried to pour it on herself, but she still felt too warm.

Professor Hanamura and her husband had rounded them up and led them outside, picking up the crying kids as they went.

They could still hear the screaming from where they all sat in the repository courtyard, but it was more distant. It didn’t burn as much.

Professor Hanamura had shifted for them, declaring that they’d all have to race her from one tree to another. Halfway through each heat she’d always trip or fall, and half of the racers would pile onto her, letting the rest of them reach the tree.  

Mr. Hanamura, meanwhile, had kept his eyes fixed on a scrying glass in his lap. He looked tense, despite flashing smiles at the squires. His smile looked like the one Chie’s mom used to wear during typhoon season.

When the screaming stopped, it was like diving into a pond after getting the worst sunburn in history. The adults acted like all the air left them at once, and then grinned at each other. Chie and the rest of the squires just started shouting at each other.

It was only later that evening that Chie found out what the screaming meant. Princess Yukiko had been poisoned, and it had taken a good four hours for the healers to ensure her safety.

The Phoenixes knew when something was wrong with members of the royal family. If they were screaming now, then…

Chie didn’t want to think about it. She pushed herself onward, trying to run even faster.It might nto even be Yukiko that was in danger this time, and even if it was, she’d be okay. She had to be okay.

Yukiko would be okay because Yukiko had her. She was strong enough to protect her; she could do this; she would prove that she’d earned her place protecting Yukiko, and that she was the best person for the job.

Yukiko had to be okay. Chie had to be there for her, so Yukiko had to be okay. She prayed to every god she knew that Yukiko would be okay.

It took too long to arrive at the menagerie, and Chie could have kicked herself when she did. It was ridiculous to assume that Yukiko would be in there. The Phoenixes would scream whether or not they could see the injured party.

Still, after considering Yukiko’s schedule, she could still have been in there. It was better to be sure.

Chie neared the glass door to the menagerie, ready to peer in, when she reeled back. She closed her eyes for a moment, then neared the glass again.

Her reflection stared back at her. Brown hair, cut into a bob, framed a face that was familiar to her. Everything matched the picture of herself that she kept fixed in her head. Everything except the bright gold of her eyes.

“Doesn’t make sense,” she said, blinking rapidly. She had brown eyes. She had always had brown eyes. _Shadows_ had gold eyes. She wasn’t a shadow. She knew she wasn’t a shadow, so she shouldn’t have gold eyes.

Unless she was a shadow.

“You wish.”

Chie whipped around to face the source of the voice, and came face to face with someone who looked exactly like her.

“Brown eyes,” Chie said, unable to keep the useless observation from spilling out.

The other Chie crossed her arms. “Promoted for astute observational skills, huh? Glad to know we’re willing to swallow a ton of bullshit right off the bat.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or maybe that’s the problem.”

Chie clenched her fists, as well as her teeth. “Listen, you—”

“Eager to issue orders, are we?” The other Chie laughed. “Oh, please tell me you don’t think you’re qualified for that.”

No armor. She had no armor and no weapons, and she couldn’t take on a shadow without a persona, if Souji was right, but gods did she want to punch herself out. She was out of options, but if she could just figure out some way to fight it, then— No, she couldn’t think of it like an opponent. She had to think of it as an annoyance. She had to—

“No wonder your rank had to be given to you. You’re really shitty at dealing with threats.”

“I _earned_ my rank!” Chie bit out. She clapped her hand on her mouth, and her shadow smiled, wide and slow.

“You are so close to cracking. So easily defeated. It’s hilarious, really.”

Chie stopped, right before damning words would have left her mouth. The shadow’s words, taunting as they were, had brought a memory to the surface. They’d all been camping on a hill after a scouting mission gone wrong, Souji, Kou, Daisuke, and her. She’d been so pissed off. They’d run away as soon as the Nixies had appeared, against her wishes.

Everyone was quiet, up until Kou spoke up. “We haven’t been defeated, you know.”

Chie had glared at him. “We ran away.”

“Nah,” Daisuke said, nodding at Kou. “He’s right. We didn’t run away. We’re gonna go after them when we’re better prepared, and, y’know, actually have options. That’s not running away. That’s a strategic retreat.”

Souji had smiled at them. “So you two do pay attention in tactics instruction.”

“Eh,” Kou sniffed, “you were sick once, so we couldn’t copy your notes.”

Chie still hadn’t liked it. It had taken a good three years for her to consider strategic retreat without prompting. However, she liked to think that once she learnt a lesson, she never forgot it.

She clenched her fists. “Not running away,” she said.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You never do. I mean, pretending like protecting Yukiko is worth living a lie, stubbornly refusing to let people who can actually protect her do their jobs—”

“Just a strategic retreat. It’s not running away.” Chie bit the inside of her cheek, and glared up at her shadow. “It’s _not_ running away.”

Then, in a single move, she opened the door behind her, backed inside the menagerie, and slammed the door shut. She quickly locked it with one of the keys on her belt, and then ran like a troll from sunlight.

She had to find Yukiko.

The sound of screaming grew louder and louder, and Chie began to feel like she was on fire. Desperately, she tried to make ice, but just like years before, only water hung in the air.

“Yukiko! Yukiko, are you in here?”

It was no use. The screeching was too loud; she couldn’t even hear herself. She rushed around the massive room, every second burning.

The heat didn’t matter. Once Yukiko was safe, it’d go away. She wouldn’t let the heat stop her.

She was about to reach the other side of the menagerie when she spotted them.

One Yukiko sat on the floor, golden eyes bright with fury. Her hair was escaping her ponytail, and her obi had been used to tie her hands together.

Above her stood another Yukiko, wearing the street clothes Yukiko preferred when visiting Chie or Kanji. Her back was to Chie.

Chie could see the Yukiko with golden eyes saying something, but the couldn’t tell what over the incessant screaming of the Phoenixes.

The other Yukiko shook her head and shrugged, presumably in answer. The golden eyed Yukiko began to talk even more, her face taking on the mottled hue that Chie hadn’t seen since someone had called Muku a filthy mutt.

Chie hesitated. In all likelihood, the tied up Yukiko was the real Yukiko, but she would also bet money on Yukiko’s ability to hogtie a shadow version of herself. The golden eyes were also a factor, but then again…

She touched the side of her face, remembering the way her own eyes had shone gold. A moment passed, and Chie grit her teeth.

Either way, she needed to get them away from each other. If the real Yukiko said anything to trigger the shadow’s transformation, she’d be lost.

Chie pulled a pouch from her belt and pulled out one of Muku’s dog treats. She then took a deep breath, launched it at the standing Yukiko’s head, and ducked down onto her stomach. She proceeded to clamber behind the menagerie’s foliage until she was approximately just behind the golden eyed Yukiko.

A glance upwards told her that the Yukiko in street clothes was now searching the area from which Chie had launched the snack.

Chie only had a moment. She picked the sitting Yukiko up, carrying her in her arms, then ran for the nearest exit, luckily being the furthest from the one she’d used to enter.

Once outside the menagerie, the shrieking stopped all at once.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Chie breathed. She looked at Yukiko. “Any chance you can tell me if you’re the real Yukiko before I untie you?”

Yukiko opened and closed her mouth, gaping.

“You know, the fact that you’re not immediately saying shitty things is probably a good sign,” Chie said. “And we really need to hurry, so I think we can leave it at that.”

She quickly untied Yukiko’s hands. “Sorry,” she apologised as she tied it around Yukiko’s waist, “I really suck at tying these, and we really don’t have very much time. We can fix it later.”

With that, they began to make their way down the hall, albeit slower than Chie would have liked. Yukiko’s formal attire wasn’t designed with running in mind.

After a while, Yukiko spoke up. “Don’t worry,” she said, “appearances are the least of our worries right now.” She snickered. “It’s reappearances we need to look out for.”

Chie stared at her, mouth agog. “Were you quiet for so long because you were thinking of a pun?”

“I wanted to lighten the mood! You looked upset.”

“Of course I was upset!” Chie exclaimed, still gaping. “I thought you were hurt, or dying, or, I don’t know! Something.”

Yukiko’s brow wrinkled. “But I’m not hurt. You saw that I wasn’t hurt, so you should have stopped worrying.”

Chie groaned. “That’s not how it works, Yukiko. You’re still in danger, and you don’t just suddenly get over thinking that someone you care about might have been hurt.” She bit the inside of her cheek as they rounded a corridor, leaving a baffled scribe clutching the side of a wall in their wake. “Don’t get me wrong, I am so relieved that you’re not hurt, but I’m still kind of panicking over here.”

Yukiko nodded. “I’m sorry I worried you, Chie.”

Chie shook her head. “You shouldn’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” She stared at Yukiko just a little too intensely for a little too long, and looked away. “Besides,” she swallowed down some ugly kind of emotion. “It’s my job to protect you.”

It was silent for a long, unending moment. “Right,” Yukiko said, voice flat. “It’s your job.”

They moved on without speaking for what seemed like ages until they heard the pounding of steps on the floor. Nodding at each other, they quickly ducked into the nearest unoccupied room.

Chie peered through the crack. To her surprise, she saw herself— or rather, her shadow— leading a group of guards through the hall.

“Spread out,” her shadow barked. “Those shadows pose a direct hazard to the princess. I want them detained, and I want them detained now.”

“That moon-splitting, muck-raking, festering sack of Phoenix dung,” Chie spat. “She’s taking my place. Gods!”

“It’s a good plan, too,” Yukiko said. “Now that we have golden eyes, no one will believe that we’re not the shadows.”

“Fuck,” Chie breathed. “And since Souji’s gone, we have no way to fight them.”

Yukiko gave her a sharp look. Chie winced.

“Okay, I have some explaining to do, but we need to save that for later. Our first priority is getting out of the castle safely,” Chie said, holding up her hands.

Yukiko frowned at her, but nodded. “Alright. We should probably set a course for Kanji’s home. Hopefully, Mrs. Tatsumi will be willing to help us.”

Chie nodded. “But before we do that, we need three things: my armor, your street clothes, and—”

“Muku,” Yukiko finished, smiling. Chie grinned back at her.

“Just like old times, huh?” Chie asked.

“You freeze the locks, I’ll supply the distractions,” Yukiko answered. “So, yes, just like old times.”

Chie could feel the goofy grin on her face, but for once she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Ready when you are.”

Yukiko’s face shined in anticipation. It was like looking at the sun. “Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

**“Mankind has only itself to blame for its own demise. How many of the traps you step in are of your own devising? How many thoughts that stab and snare come from within, rather than without? How many of those who betrayed you are only reacting to your unpleasant nature?”**

**“You created your own hell, and now you will burn in it alone, for you long ago pushed all of those who would help you far away.”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!! I had commissions to do and obligations to fill and video games to play because my will is Weak.
> 
> Also, remember when I said thing were really gonna diverge plotwise from the original game from here on out? Yeah.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one is appropriately worried about what lies ahead

  ****

The way Chie’s door creaked on its hinges was nothing new, but it still set her teeth on edge to hear. By the way Yukiko had jumped at the sound, Chie wasn’t the only one.

Chie grimaced, and was about to apologise, when Yukiko let out a snort.

“Chie, I know I gave you oil last time I visited.” The fact that she had had plenty of time to use it between then and now hung in the air.

Flushing, Chie shrugged. “Some of the other guards needed it more. Takeshi’s door was rusted so badly that he had to sleep in the hallway, sometimes.”

Chie could hear Yukiko hum in acknowledgement behind her, the way she usually did when she found something amusing but thought it would be inappropriate to laugh.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Chie tried not to frown. It had been a long time since Yukiko had directed that hum at her.

“Well, here we are,” Chie said, immediately regretting it. She had somehow managed to be both  redundant and awkward at the same time; she was on a roll.

A glance at Yukiko, however, just revealed her to be peering around the room, an expression of curiosity on her face, as if she expected it to have somehow become a new room entirely within the space of a few months. If that were the case, she’d be disappointed. Chie barely lived in her quarters. It was just a place to store things and sleep. Same old bed, same old chair, same old window that barely let in any light, same old Muku sleeping in a gigantic, sprawling mass on the floor.

Chie knelt down beside the fluff-monster, reaching out to ruffle his fur. “Wake up, sleepy-butt. You’ll never guess who came to visit.”

Waking up slowly, Muku squinted up at Chie, his tail sweeping against the floor.

Chie grinned. “Someone slept well, huh? That’s good.” She tucked her hands behind his ears, scratching his head. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

She had all of three seconds to pet him before Muku was suddenly lurching upwards, barreling past Chie at high-speed. Yukiko had been spotted.

“Hi! Hi,” Yukiko greeted Muku as he crashed into her. Chie knew she had trained Muku better than to jump on people like that, but Yukiko didn’t seem to mind being the exception.

Yukiko’s grin seemed to grow broader with every soft bark, even as Muku heaved his massive weight against her side.“I know! I know,” Yukiko replied, as if she understood everything Muku was trying to communicate. “I missed you too.” She looked as if she’d pick him up if she were able. “Oh, your fur is so clean! And you’re hardly shedding! Chie must have just brushed you, didn’t she? You probably liked that a lot, huh?”

Muku let out a soft wuff, as if in confirmation. Yukiko laughed. “I thought so.”

Chie didn’t know how long she stood there, just staring at the two of them while biting down a smile. She realized that it was probably too long when Yukiko caught her eyes.

Praying that she wasn’t blushing— or that the room was too dimly lit to see her clearly— Chie turned to assemble her belongings.

It had been a while since training had ended, but Chie still remembered how to pack in a hurry. It wouldn’t take long to rifle through her things and decide what she could afford to leave behind, and the fact that half of her work was already done simplified things.

Chie retrieved two satchels from beneath her rolled up futon.“Yukiko, you haven’t hit a growth spurt in the last few months, right?”

“No, my old clothes should fit,” Yukiko said. “Am I still packed?”

Chie looked back over her shoulder and grinned. “‘Course you are. Fair warning, though; I had to unpack everything and wash them a few times so that they wouldn’t get mildewy, so if things look faded, you know why.”

Yukiko shrugged. “Perfect. The less noticeable we are, the better.”

“Yeah, that’s— Shit.” Chie bit her lip, looking down at her satchel and freezing in place. “Shit. I can’t wear my armor out of here; it attracts too much attention.” She brought her fist to her mouth. “I’ll have to carry it, which means less room in my pack, which means I’ll only have my light armor with me, as well as more limited supplies, so we’ll have to do more supply runs. I guess we could ask Kanji to run for some supplies, but we’re already counting on him and his mother for shelter, and, gods, what are we supposed to do about—”

“Chie,” Yukiko interrupted, “Chie, look at me.”

Turning around, Chie lurched back a little at seeing Yukiko— especially a Yukiko with bright, golden eyes— so close. “Sorry! You kind of caught me off-guard.”

Yukiko stared at her for a second, then began to laugh, hard and loud. Chie flushed, then started laughing as well.

“Pun unintended,” she wheezed. “Honestly, Yukiko, this is serious!”

Yukiko grabbed her hand, still snorting. “You're allowed to laugh at serious things when you’re the one who has to deal with them. Sometimes it’s the only way to deal with them.” She shook her head. “I just wanted you to know that you can calm down. We’ll make it through.”

“You are way too optimistic for someone who was just tied up by their mirror image, you know that?”

“To be fair, you and Lieutenant-Commander Adachi did a fair job of forewarning everyone of the possibility. I wasn’t unprepared.” Yukiko’s eyes narrowed. “However, I am still waiting for an explanation of that remark you made about Souji, in case you were wondering. I thought they’d reported that there were no known ways to combat shadows.”

Chie tugged her hand away and ran it through her hair, avoiding Yukiko’s eyes. “Technically there isn’t. I mean, for us? Right now? There isn’t really a way to fight them. Souji had some success with summoning something called a Persona, but they have no idea what it is. It seems to be attached to some sort of cost, and they didn’t want an unknown variable being treated like our only option.”

Yukiko cocked her head. “The way you’re describing it is making it sound exactly like our only option.” If Chie hadn’t known her so well, she would have missed the tension in her jaw. “I don’t like this, Chie. You have to have at least three ways to win something, and five ways to retreat before you settle on a plan of action.”

Chie frowned. Souji and Yukiko had always been better at strategy than she was, but it tended to mean that they overthought decisions that had already been made, or ones that wouldn’t need to be made for a while yet.

This time, Chie was the one who reached for Yukiko’s hand. “Hey,” she said, keeping her voice quiet. “Do you remember when we first snuck Muku into town?”

Yukiko looked at her, curiosity plain on her face. “Yes,” she said, the word careful and enunciated. “Of course I do.”

“And do you remember what I told you when you and Muku knocked over all those pastries?”

“You said that it ‘really isn’t the time for jokes, Yukiko,’ because the patissiere looked rather angry.”

Chie blinked. “What? No!” She rubbed the back of her head with her unoccupied hand. “I mean, yeah, probably, but that’s not what I meant.” She sighed, feeling a hopeless smile twitch on her lips. “That was another joke, wasn’t it?”

Yukiko smiled. “One day it won’t take you so long to figure it out.”

“One day you’ll have better timing.”

“The timing is what makes it funny.”

“Running away from someone who’s yelling about baking you into a meat pie is not the time for jokes,” Chie said, laughing despite herself.

“You were the one who asked me if I thought,” Yukiko wheezed, trying to catch her breath between bursts of laughter, “he had any beef with us!”

“That was after you made your joke, and there is no way you remember that!” Chie gaped at her. “That was years ago. I don’t even remember exactly what I said.”

“I have a good memory,” Yukiko said, trying to assume a pompous facade and dissolving into laughter instead. She let go of Chie’s hand, bringing both of her hands up to muffle her snorting.

Chie fought to regain her former point. “Anyway! Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is that at some point before or after we both made really bad jokes— I don’t remember because my memory isn’t as impressive as yours— I said that the important thing is getting from one point to the next and taking things one step at a time. I was trying to connect lessons from the past to our current situation, and seem collected, but laughing is nice too.”

“It was before.”

“Hm?” Chie cocked her head.

Yukiko tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear, eyes still bright with laughter. “You trying to be suave started the whole thing. I started laughing and knocked over the pastries.”

Chie flushed. “Oh. So, history repeats itself after all, huh?”

“Hopefully we won’t run into any pastries on our way to the Tatsumi residence.” Yukiko paused for a second. “That would be a _piece_ of luck.”

Chie groaned. “Please tell me you’re not—”

“I know, we need to cut to the meat of the matter.”

“Gods above.” Chie shook her head and turned. “I’m packing. I’m not hearing anything. You’re not saying words.”

“Well, if that’s the way the cookie crumbles…”

“Muku, stop her,” Chie pleaded. The dog perked up at the mention of his name, then proceeded to roll over, exposing his belly.

“Thank you, Muku. That was helpful.”

“He does his best,” Yukiko said, walking back to scratch his stomach. Chie could hear her hum something.

After a few moments of silence, during which Yukiko handed off the occasional piece of clothing, empty metal casing, or bag of saltpeter for Chie to pack, Yukiko spoke up. “So, standard protocol’s unchanged, then?”

Chie stiffened. “What do you mean?”

Yukiko bobbed her head in a quick jerk toward the door. “I assumed that since we haven’t heard anyone investigating that the guard quarters are still lowest priority. That, and we’ve been moving pretty slowly.”

Feeling her shoulders descend and her gut unclench, Chie nodded. “Yeah. It’s kind of a, ‘why bother’ thing. The doors down here might be creaky and old, but they’re well-enchanted.”

Yukiko nodded, then snorted.

“What is it?” Chie asked.

“You’re the only one who can open your door, right?”

“Me or Muku, and he’s coming with us,” Chie said. “Why?”

Yukiko snorted again. “Your shadow is going to have to become accustomed to sleeping in the hallway, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Chie blinked at her, then stared into the distance for a moment, biting her lip.

“You’re not laughing,” Yukiko said. “What’s wrong?”

Chie glanced down at the satchel in her hands. “It’s, well…” She shrugged. “It just hit me that my shadow might be able to get in here. I mean, the enchantment might recognise it as being part of me, if Teddie can be believed.”

“Who’s Teddie?” Yukiko asked.

Chie winced. “Can I get a pass on catching you up to speed until we’re not in danger of being caught by shadows of ourselves?”

“We seemed to have plenty of time when we were packing the satchels,” Yukiko said, her eyes narrowing.

“That was before I realised that there’s a possibility my shadow could charge in here at any moment!”

“Mmhmm.” Yukiko didn’t seem impressed.

Chie sighed, feeling herself deflate. She’d enjoyed being a guard while it had lasted.

She forced a smile. “Anyway, we’re about ready to go, so I’ll be able to tell you everything soon enough.” She looked up to see Yukiko examining one of the empty metal casings on her desk.

“You know, we could leave a little surprise for our shadows.”

Chie froze for a second. A moment later she whipped her head back and forth so quickly that she thought she might have pulled something. “ _No_ , Yukiko. We are not setting fire to my room.”

Yukiko pouted. “We’d be careful. I know how to place things strategically.”

It took a moment for Chie to run through the various strategies that might possibly win against Yukiko’s tenacity. “Okay. Let’s say we go ahead and set my room on fire. What will happen to the nearby rooms? Some guards aren’t on shift, and they might be resting in their quarters.”

Yukiko looked between Chie and the casing, eyebrows drawn together. “Oh, fine. We’ll do things the boring way.”

“The stealthy way,” Chie corrected.

“I hate the stealthy way,” Yukiko grumbled, reaching down to pet Muku.  “It’s the only way anyone ever does things here.”

All at once, Chie could see the small girl she had met years ago, arms wrapped around a dog and shivering. She blinked, and was pulled back into the present.

Shaking her head, she huffed out an amused breath and smiled. “I know, Yukiko. I know you do.”

Yukiko, oblivious, dropped the casing back onto Chie’s desk. “Well, if we are going to do things the boring way, we might as well get going.”

Chie looked at her for a long moment, then sighed, her lips twitching into a smile. “Alright. We’re not setting anything on fire, but I do know something we can do.”

Yukiko lit up, then frowned. “But you did have a point. I don’t want to endanger anyone needlessly.”

Waving a hand, Chie walked over to the door. “Trust me, this won’t hurt anyone. It uses about the same mechanic as lockpicking.”

“You don’t pick locks,” Yukiko said, bemused.

Chie grinned. “Nope.”

Yukiko’s eyebrow rose so high that it looked like it might escape. “I’ had better get into my street clothes, then.”

“Probably a good plan.”

It too only a few more minutes of preparation before Chie was ready to open the door. With a swift yank, she swung the heavy wooden door into the room, and looked back at Yukiko.

“Okay, so fair warning,” she said, “I have no idea how this is gonna react with an enchanted door, so we probably want to be on the other side first.”

Yukiko quickly urged Muku into the hallway and followed after. Chie nodded at them, then closed the door with one last groaning creak.

Staring up at it, she patted the surface. “Sorry, buddy. But on the bright side, you won’t be as creaky after this. Maybe.” She extended a hand toward the hinges, and coated them in ice. “Unless the water makes you rust more. In that case, I am very, very sorry.” She paused. “But also not as sorry because it means it’s an inconvenience for my shadow. So, I, mean—”

“Chie, we’re still standing in the hallway,” Yukiko said. “I’m sure the door understands.”

Chie flushed, and turned toward Yukiko and Muku. “Of course it does. It’s a very understanding door.”  
Muku didn’t seem very impressed, but Yukiko was smiling. “Of course.” She turned to look down the hallway, then looked back at Chie. “Race you to the Tatsumis’?”

Chie felt her eyes nearly bug out of her head, then relaxed. “You’re joking again.”

“It only took you a few seconds that time,” Yukiko said. “I told you you’d get better.”

Rolling her eyes, Chie shook her head. “You’d think, wouldn’t you?” She bent to scratch Muku’s head and clip on his tether. “Alright. Let’s get going.”

* * *

“And that’s about it. So now we’re at Kanji’s,” Chie finished.

Souji could see Yosuke’s tail flicking back in forth in agitation out of the corner of their eye. “How can we be sure that that’s the truth? You could just be lying to us.”

“She actually was lying a little,” Yukiko piped up. “Not much though. She just fudged some details.” She looked at Chie, amused.

“For one, you did _not_ carry me in your arms in the menagerie. You threw me over your shoulder like a sack of produce,” Yukiko said. She rolled her eyes, still unnervingly gold, from her side of the scrying glass.  “And I’m not sure how you expected Souji to accept that, considering they are well aware of the fact that you have to use your hands to open those doors.”

Souji bit the inside of their cheek and said nothing. They had never really noted the particulars of the castle’s design.

“I was very impressive and polite, and I totally carried you like a princess,” Chie objected.

“Any way you carried me would have been carrying me like a princess,” Yukiko said, snorting. “That doesn’t mean that you weren’t practical about it. “

“I don’t think they’re shadows, Yosuke,” Souji said, watching them. “They haven’t started listing all the ways they hate us, themselves, or their current situation, and it’s been a while.”

Yosuke made a low sound in his throat. “I guess that’s a point.”

Abruptly, they heard Kanji shout in the background. “I’m making rice porridge! Tell me if you want any flavouring.” Souji blinked. That had to have been very loud for the mirror to have picked it up.

“Just the usual for me, Kanji!” Chie shouted.

Yosuke began to whimper, pressing his ears flat to his head.

“A shit ton of grain jiang, right?” Kanji called back.

“You know it!”

“What about Yukiko?”

Teddie spoke up. “I want porridge too!”

“Huh? Who was that?” Kanji asked.

As they called back and forth, Souji stretched out a hand to scratch Yosuke’s back. “You okay?” they mouthed.

Yosuke gave Souji a thumbs up, then promptly placed his hands back over his ears.

Souji turned back to the mirror to see Yukiko staring at them. They waved at her, unsure of what else to do.

Her face split into a grin as the yelling came to a cease.“Hello, Souji. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Souji nodded. “I believe we were all at Kanji’s house then, as well.”

“Oh yeah! It was right before things got really busy for the winter season,” Chie said. Her eyes narrowed. “Of course, it hasn’t nearly been as long as, I don’t know, _five years_ , but…”

Yosuke shrunk back. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Do you really think you deserve to?” Yukiko asked, cocking her head.

Chie’s eyes widened. “Whoa, hold on there. That’s a bit harsh, Yukiko.”

Meanwhile, Yosuke’s ears lay flat against his head. Yukiko’s stare was unflinching, and it seemed to carve into him like a brand into flesh.

“Yukiko,” Souji said, softly. “The circumstances—”

“I’m well aware.” Her voice was clipped. “Chie told me.” There was a moment of silence, and then she spoke again. “You could have come to me for help, you know.”

Yosuke didn’t meet her eyes. “No.”

“No?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Yosuke snapped. “You were Chie’s friend, not mine. I didn’t know that you’d do anything. I know I fucked up— I get that now—  but it fucking sucks to be reminded every five minutes.”

Souji saw Teddie look between Yosuke and the glass in confusion. “I thought all of you were friends,” they said, their voice confused and sharp at the edges, like it was about to break. “Why are you fighting?”

Anyone who didn’t know Yukiko would have missed the way she closed her eyes for a long moment, but Souji had to memorise all of their friends’ mannerisms at some point or another.

“I thought we were too, Teddie,” Yukiko said at last.

There was an impenetrable tension, hung in the vast expanse between Inaba and Fenneca. It seemed as if nothing could break it, which is why, in retrospect, Souji should have concluded that Kanji would do just that.

He burst into the room on the other end of the glass, carrying three bowls of porridge at once. “It’s still hot, so be careful,” he said, setting them down on the table. “Don’t tell Ma we’re eating up here, either. She’d kick my ass into Detecande.” He glanced up at the glass, and grinned.

“Hey, Souji!” His gaze then flicked to Teddie, and his jaw dropped. “Oh gods above, that is so cute. I haven’t seen a carnival outfit that impressive in years.” He crossed the room, seemingly to search for something, and returned with charcoal and parchment.

“Craftsmanship like that is practically unheard of,” he said. “Gods, I can’t even see any visible seams from where it’s positioned.” He made a few marks on the parchment, accompanied by wide strokes. “Souji, you have to tell me where you got that.”

Souji shrugged helplessly. “I found them in the forest?”

“I’m Teddie!” Teddie announced.

Kanji looked even more excited, if possible. “Oh! Is that your costume? Did you make it? It’s a shitton better than a lot of work I’ve seen, so I’d really like to—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Yosuke grumbled, crossing his arms, “but Teddie is the suit. Go ahead and show ‘em, Ted.”

“Sure!” Teddie undid their buckles with a few quick motions, and popped their head off.

Yukiko and Kanji shared identical looks of disbelief for a moment before a look of abashed horror transformed Kanji’s features.

“I am so sorry,” he apologised. “I must have been using “it” pronouns for you without even asking first.”

Teddie bounced in place, as they slid their head back in place. “It’s okay! I use they pronouns because Souji uses them, and Souji’s cool! It doesn’t bother me as much as Souji and Yosuke.”

“I use he, him, and his,” Yosuke said. “For future reference.”

“Thanks,” Kanji said, nodding. “Chie told me before, but it’s nice to get confirmation. Same here, by the way, but they change sometimes.”

Yosuke nodded, his ears flicking forward.

Kanji’s eyes followed the movement, causing Souji to smile. He obviously wanted to comment on them, but if there was one thing Kanji couldn’t stand, it was making people self-conscious, whether by accident or design.

After a quiet moment, wherein Kanji gained permission to sketch Teddie, Yosuke picked grass, and Chie and Yukiko tasted their porridge, Souji spoke up.

“Now that we’ve laid out the basics, I think that it’s time we address our next plan of action.”

Chie set down her bowl. “What do you suggest?”

Taking in a deep breath, Souji closed their eyes. When they opened them, they clenched their fists. “First things first, I’ll have to leave Inaba.”

There was silence, and then everyone was talking at once.

“What do you mean you’ll have to leave Inaba?”

“There have been two attacks there!”

“Where are you going?”

“Souji, don’t leave us alone!”

“That makes sense.”

Kanji’s voice cut through the mesh of blending voices, silencing them. “Chie sent over the temporal mage, right? So Inaba may not exactly be protected, but anyone who’s attacked isn’t gonna die. Fenneca, on the other hand, has weird-ass shadows that aren’t following the usual MO, right?”

Souji nodded. “That sums up my reasoning pretty well, Kanji.”

“I figured. You and Chie basically had the same plan when you were fighting those wasp things.” Kanji shrugged.

Teddie began to sniff loudly. “I don’t want you to leave! You can’t leave me and Yosuke alone; it’s not fair! We’re supposed to see new things together!”

“Then I guess we have to go with them, Ted.” Yosuke’s statement was frank. “I mean, they’d be lost without us.”

Souji’s brow wrinkled. “Wait a moment, I didn’t say that—”

“You’d be leaving without us? Of course you wouldn’t say something like that.” Yosuke crossed his arms. “I mean it’s not like we didn’t have a demonstration on why fighting shadows alone is a bad idea and why you need a partner just last night, or anything.”

Souji winced. “Yosuke, this could be very dangerous; you’re not trained for something like this.”

Yosuke grinned. “My mom was a survivalist professor who taught Chie half of what she knows, and I’ve been living in the wild for five years. Try a new tactic.”

“Izanagi will be slower with multiple riders.”

Yosuke’s grin broadened. “I can turn into a wolf. Speed isn’t an issue.”

“You don’t like fully transforming,” Souji objected.

“Wolf’s more comfortable than human most days.”

“Teddie can’t ride a horse,” Souji said, crossing their arms in triumph.

“Teddie is Teddie,” Yosuke deadpanned. “They’ll find a way. They always do.”

Souji threw up their hands, standing. “Fine! Fine, if Teddie can find a way, you can both come.”

Teddie cheered. “We’re not gonna be alone! We’re gonna be together for a long time, and we’ll kick shadow ass!”

“Teddie!” Chie gasped, scandalised.

Yosuke grimaced.”Okay, that’s either my fault, or Kanji’s.”

Looking haunted, Kanji buried his face in his hands. “I really hope it isn’t mine.”

“Have we all adopted a bear suit?” Yukiko asked. “Are we Teddie’s parents now? Did we just corrupt a child?”

“I’m not even twenty and I’ve failed as a parent,” Kanji groaned.

Despite themself, Souji smiled, leaning back on their hands. The sound of bickering was almost comforting. They really had missed their friends.

* * *

**“No matter who or where one is, they cannot avoid certain essential truths in life. There are beginnings, and there are ends, and there is little difference between the two.”**

**“Each pulls at one’s limbs, and each is pervaded with both sadness and relief. At times, it is impossible for even the gods to determine where a beginning segues into an end.”**

**“Is it not apt, then, to say that every beginning is in fact an end? Is it not apt to say that you long for the end of a journey before you take even the first step?”**

**“If you do not wish to reach the end, why did you begin?”**

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone knows what leaving feels like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for themes of parental neglect and abuse

“No.” Dojima stared Souji down, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. His fist rested on the table beside the rough, stone cup he’d been drinking from moments before.

“ _No_ ,” he repeated, softer, but more insistent. “Nothing can travel that kind of distance in a matter of days, Souji, not even that beast out there. It’s…” He rubbed his nose with the backside of his hand. “It’s impossible.”

Souji stared down at the table, eyes flicking from one whorl in the wood to the next. “I conferred with several of my colleagues—”

“Enough of the formality,” Dojima said, pounding his fist on the table. “Just say what you mean!”

Souji felt their already rigid posture stiffen further.

Dojima’s face softened. “I’m sorry. Shit. I’m sorry, kid, I just... Shit.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I never did well with beating around the bush. I know that’s not you. Coping mechanisms, right? Different for everybody.” The words fell like pieces of broken stoneware on the table. There was a rough continuity to them, as if they should have been a whole construction, but the thoughts were too independent to fit together.

Still, Souji knew the shape of them well enough to piece them into an apology, even as their remonstration to Ai echoed in their mind.

Dojima was apologetic. Souji would have to trust that he wouldn’t yell again.

Under the table, Souji clenched and released their fists in a comforting motion, letting their hand flutter outwards with the release. They’d be okay. They were okay.

“I spoke with a few other guards, and it appears that this might be a case of multiple assailants. The things attacking people take form in accordance…” Souji traced the points where one portion of the floor met the other, their gaze flicking to Dojima before settling back on the ground. “They can change their shape depending on the victim’s perceptions.”

Dojima was quiet. His head was bowed in the same manner as the priests who roamed Fenneca, mouths tight and somber, eyes bright in supplication.

Souji wasn’t sure what the prayer was for, or even if Dojima was praying at all. Souji wasn’t sure of much at all, anymore.

“So you’re going then?” Dojima asked after a long moment. “To investigate in the city?”

As hard as they tried, Souji still couldn’t hear any trace of emotion in Dojima’s voice. Or, if they did, they couldn’t quite place it.

“I’m afraid so,” Souji said. “Now that Inaba has a temporal mage, it’s far better prepared against these attacks than anywhere else.”

Biting the inside of their cheek, Souji added, “In addition, I can investigate other towns between here and Fenneca for signs of more widespread attacks.” It felt like an excuse under the weight of Dojima’s stare.

“That’s a concern, then?”

Souji nodded, and Dojima sighed.

“Alright.” Dojima took in a deep breath. “Alright. Just…” Dojima’s eyes roamed across Souji’s expression, as if looking for something. “Just try to be safe. As safe as you can, I mean.” He shook his head, a wry smile forming on his lips. “And be sure to tell me as soon as you catch those mean pieces of shit.”

The door slammed before Souji could respond. In tandem, Souji and Dojima turned to the front door, listening to the sound of small feet pattering away.

Souji stood. “Nanako—”

It took a matter of moments for Dojima to stride to the door. However, just before he opened it, he paused.

“Do you want to tell her yourself?”

Souji blinked. They opened their mouth for a second, then cast their gaze to the ground. “Yes,” they said. “I would appreciate the opportunity to explain why I…” They lifted their arms in a useless half-shrug, their elbows tucked inwards and hands spread outwards. “Why I have to go.”  
Dojima inclined his head, his face stern, for a long moment. Then, he nodded. “Alright.”

With that, he opened the door, and Souji left.

* * *

Souji found Nanako at the stables.

They had looked into several shops, garnering odd looks from shopkeepers as they went, and it had taken longer than they would have thought to track her down.

Still, there was a sense of appropriateness to Nanako being in the stables. It felt obvious, somehow, that she would be sitting on the floor, staring up at Izanagi.

Izanagi turned his head to stare at Souji over the gate of his stall, looking as critical as a horse could.

Souji resisted the urge to duck their head in shame. They would not be judged by a horse.

Nanako didn’t look at them as they sat down. That was okay.

They’d be okay.

The stable was silent for a moment. Izanagi had lost interest in the humans in record time, and seemed to have no qualms about showing his backside to them.

Souji thought long and hard about what they wanted to say. There were a lot of specific ideas and words that they had to communicate, and emotions that they understood. They opened their mouth to try to start.

Instead, they pointed at Izanagi and said, “I named him after a god.”

Nanako jerked at the sudden noise, then settled back. She still didn’t speak.

“I was often lonely. When I was younger, I mean.” Souji bit their lip, leaning further back. “My mother and father travelled quite a bit. They didn’t quite have the temperament to watch a child while they were working, or in foreign places. I think they tried, at some point?” It came out as more of a question than a statement.

Souji had to take a breath. They didn’t look at Nanako. “I was lonely a lot,” they reiterated. “But I had a few people that looked after me while my parents were away. They taught me a lot.” Souji picked up a piece of straw and began to tie it into knots.

“One day, one of them— their name was Saori— had to go on a trip. I started wailing.” Souji felt like they were smiling, but couldn’t be sure if it was appropriate for what they were trying to say. They ripped off a piece of the straw. “I was so scared that they were going to leave and forget me, and that if they ever came back, they wouldn’t know what to do with me, so being nearby would work out to about the same as being far away.”

Souji spun the straw between their palms. “Saori told me over and over again that of course they’d come back, and of course they wouldn’t forget me, but it’s the concrete nature of things that you register. Intent isn’t the same as action.”

“Intent?” Nanako’s voice was tentative.

“Things you mean to do aren’t the same as things you actually do,” Souji explained. “It didn’t matter to me what Saori said. What mattered is that they were leaving.

“I think that Saori knew that pretty well, though. They told me that even though they’d be gone, they would use a scrying glass to contact me as much as possible, and they would make sure to tell me a good story every single time.They used to be a scribe, and became a bard later on, so they knew a plethora of good stories.”

Nanako didn’t even have to ask this time.

Souji winced. “A lot. Saori knew a lot of good stories. They kept their promise, as well. They taught me many things about history and legends. My favourite stories were always about Izanagi, though.”

Nanako hummed. “Dad told me one or two stories. I wondered about your Izanagi, but..” She trailed off.

“He would never leave anyone behind,” Souji said. “He even went down into the land of darkness to rescue Izanami.”

Nanako fidgeted. “But he couldn’t save her,” she said.

Souji shrugged. “The knowledge that he tried was enough for me, back then.” They bit the inside of their cheek. “So, later, when I was given a horse and told that we were to look after one another for as long as we could, it made perfect sense to name him after Izanagi.”

Letting out a deep breath, Souji let their head loll back. “I think what I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, and I will never abandon you.” They hummed. “I may have to leave because of my duties as a knight, but I will always have my scrying glass on me, and you can talk to me whenever you want.”

Nanako let out a muffled sob, and then, all at once, barrelled into Souji’s side.

“Are you okay?” Souji asked, patting her on the back. They felt that their eyes were likely far too wide and their voice too panicked to be comforting, but had no idea what else to do.

“It’s not f-fair,” Nanako started, her voice hitching, “I thought you’d fix things, and D-dad would come home earlier, and y-you could be my big sibling, and everything could be good, but you can’t. You can’t fix everything.”

Souji felt like a knife to the chest would have been less painful, but Nanako wasn’t done.

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair. Why can’t everything be f-fixed?”

Swallowing the lump in their throat, Souji shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “I don’t know, Nanako. I’m sorry.”

And so they sat in the middle of the stable, one crying and one trying not to cry, with a horse watching over them both.

* * *

“You’re leaving me in the middle of nowhere?” Ai crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. “That’s cold, Souji.” She stared them down for another long moment before rolling her eyes and grinning.

“Just make sure to hand off my love to Kou and Daisuke, okay? And contact me every once in a while, you asshole. I might die of boredom otherwise.”

“You’re bored this soon?” Souji raised their eyebrows. “You haven’t absorbed every rumour that has circulated through the town in the last two centuries already, have you?”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Did you or did you not just try to tell me about an affair that happened thirteen years ago?”

Ai stuck her tongue out at Souji in lieu of a response.

Souji hummed, and let a triumphant smile form on their face. It dissipated somewhat a moment later.

“Thank you for the, uh, help,” Souji said, gesturing to their face.

“Oh, no problem. I hate puffy crying eyes. Horrible to have, horrible to look at.” She reached out and cupped Souji’s cheek. “So make sure you don’t have any reason to cry, okay? You’re too pretty for that.”

Souji snorted. “I’ll miss you, too, Ai. Be safe.”

“As houses,” Ai assured them. “Safe as houses guarded by Inugami, even. Big ones.”

“Goodbye, Ai.”

Ai waved, shaking her head slightly. “Goodbye, Souji.”

Souji shut the door to Ai’s guest room, then peered down the hallway. There were a few people milling about, but they seemed preoccupied with their own affairs.

It only took a few minutes to traverse the distance between Ai’s room and the room where Mayumi and Saki were being held in stasis. Once outside the door, however, Souji had no idea what to do.

They had talked to Saki while she was unconscious before, but it was different now that she was locked out of time. She had no way of hearing them now.

Souji sighed. Wishing Saki and Mayumi farewell wouldn’t harm anyone. They pushed open the door.

Their luck being what it was, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Naoki was inside.

Naoki looked at Souji for a long moment before speaking. “I saw that you took care of the shadow in the wine cellar.” His mouth twisted. “Or heard, anyway.”

Souji grimaced. “I apologise. It wasn’t the quietest creature I’ve ever faced.”

Naoki shrugged. “Eh, at least I didn’t have to run interference. You’d have thought the shrieking would send everyone rushing, but…” His brow furrowed. “It was weird. Everyone that mentioned it said that they were too terrified to move.”

A whirling cape. The glint of metal, glowing in the light of a single candle. The cold floor. The incontestable knowledge that they would die there.

Souji swallowed hard. “Understandable.”

Naoki’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing.

There was a beat of silence.

“Did you stop by to talk to Saki again?”

Souji hesitated. “Actually, I came to say goodbye. With the widening range of attacks, I need to investigate the various circumstances in order to discern the root of it all.”

“You’re abandoning us.”

Souji flinched.  

Naoki’s voice was matter-of fact. “I understand why. I just want you to own up to it.”

“I’m not, though.” Souji almost looked around for the source of that rough, knife’s-edge of a voice before realising it was their own. “I’m not. I’m trying to figure out how to best help.”

Naoki’s fists clenched at his sides. “You’re still leaving. I told you. I get it. I know why you’re doing it, but you’re still leaving.”

He took in a ragged breath. “Gods. You need to own up to it. You can’t help the people you leave behind until you figure out the shit that stems from them being left behind.”

“I know what stems from being left behind,” Souji grit out. “And I refuse to be that kind of person. I would never abandon anyone.”

“You’re doing it right now!”

“There’s a difference between leaving and abandoning,” Souji bit out.

“Not when you’re the one left behind,” Naoki said, his voice quiet and dangerous. Before Souji could respond, he charged ahead. “Saki wanted— wants what you have. She wants out.”

Naoki closed his eyes for a moment. “Both of us used to listen to Mayumi’s stories about Fenneca all the time as kids. Saki liked them best. She was heartbroken whenever Mayumi left without her.

“So, of course, she bides her time and saves her money so that she can get out of this shitheap. And, of course, I leave first. Not permanently, but first.” Naoki’s knuckles are white.

“I have to go out of town for supplies as part of my apprenticeship. And it hurts Saki, and I don’t know that because she never fucking says what she means, and the next thing I know, our parents are reading her journal and they refuse to pay her anymore, and we’re bound up in the worst fucking game of tug of war that ever existed because wherever one of us goes, the other will be stuck behind.”

Naoki’s glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “So tell me again how leaving and abandoning aren’t the same damn thing. Either way, whoever’s left behind is getting the short end of the stick, and the person leaving might not have had a choice, but they might as well own up to the fact that they did a shitty thing.”

With that, Naoki stormed past Souji and into the hallway, leaving them with only their thoughts and two unmoving bodies.

* * *

Souji stared down at their things. They had triple checked all of their belongings, and everything seemed ready to go. Still, it was hard, far too hard, to bring themself to pick up their bags and carry them out the door.

The sound of a throat being cleared came from behind them.

Souji turned to see Dojima standing in the doorway, looking as if he was unused to any position other than sitting or kneeling at a table while taking up an imposing amount of space.

Dojima didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked around the near-barren room as if he’d never really paid it much attention before. Then, he looked at Souji.

“I have to say I was wrong,” he said, finally.

Souji looked at him, a tentative question writ on their face.

“Your mother as always so excited about going off on new adventures. She had this energy to her; made you think that anything was possible. She wasn’t so good at looking after anyone who went along with her, though.” Dojima shook his head. “When she said she was having a kid, well, I thought it was a bad idea. I didn’t think she was really suited to it.”

He smiled. “I’m glad I was wrong. You’re a good kid, Souji. She did right by you.”

A number of thoughts passed through Souji’s mind. There was: a stretch of undying gratitude that their face was so often inscrutable; a dark strain of amusement at the implication that their parents had anything to do with most of the qualities Souji possessed; a morbid desire to tell Dojima about the time Souji told a funny joke about the time their parents had forgotten to tell Saori that they were leaving again and no one checked on Souji for a week and a half, and absolutely no one had laughed, but instead looked at them in horror; fear of how Dojima’s face might darken in anger or misery, or simply cloud as he made awkward excuses to escape the conversation; uncomfortable recollections of every time someone had suggested that Souji’s parents must have raised them well for them to grow into such a fine young knight, to which Souji had awkwardly smiled and inclined their head and said—

“She must have.”

Dojima sighed. “I just hope I can do half as good a job raising Nanako.”

Souji turned to their bags. “I think she’d appreciate you taking some more time off of work. She enjoys spending time with you.”

Rubbing the back of his head, Dojima grimaced. “I try, but… No. No excuses.” He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Souji smiled. “Thank you.”

They hefted the first of their bags over their shoulder. “Speaking of Nanako,” they started, as they made their way outside, “is she going to be here to say goodbye?”

“‘Course,” Dojima said, carrying the second bag. “She’s petting Izanagi right now, I think.”

Sure enough, as soon as they had exited the house, they could see Nanako in close conference with the horse. Dojima ducked back inside to fetch the last of Souji’s supplies.

Souji meanwhile, approached Izanagi and Nanako.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Nanako nodded. “Yeah.” She tugged at her hair for a moment. “Are you gonna be safe, Big Sib? I was talking to Shinichi at school, and he said that it was really, really dangerous to travel right now, and his mom told him that.” She said this with the authority of someone who trusted their sources with the very fabric of their soul.

“I promise I’ll be okay, Nanako.” Remembering Ai’s earlier words, Souji smiled. “I’ll be as safe as houses.”

Nanako frowned. “But Shinichi said—”

“The roads might be dangerous to some people, but they aren’t trained to handle those dangers. I promise I’ll be okay. Remember, you can contact me at any time to check up on me. Your father has my scrying glass code.”

“Okay.” Nanako still looked unsure.

Souji reached for something to distract her, and caught upon the perfect thing. “I left some spices in the kitchen, so you should be able to use them whenever you want.”

“Really?” Nanako’s eyes lit up, but then she frowned. “Is that really okay, though? They’re your spices.”

Souji shrugged. “Which means they’re mine to give away. It’s fine, Nanako.”

Before she could respond, Dojima returned. “Well, I think you’re all set, Souji.”

Souji inclined their head. “Thank you, Dojima. I thank you for your hospitality over these last few weeks, as well.”

“It wasn’t an imposition,” Dojima objected. “You’re welcome back any time.”

Souji smiled. “I’ll remember that.”

“You have to come back as soon as possible! And tell me the Izanagi stories!” Nanako said.  Dojima looked bemused at the latter interjection.

“Of course,” Souji replied.

Then Souji and Dojima loaded Izanagi and ensured that everything was in place, Nanako peering at everything they were doing all the while.   
And then Dojima and Nanako hugged Souji while they tried to figure out how to react, Nanako squealing that they had to come back home soon, and Dojima telling them to be safe.

And then Souji was riding Izanagi out to meet Yosuke and Teddie, and their heart felt like it would burst with some painful, unnameable emotion the likes of which they had last felt when they, Kou, Chie, and Daisuke had all looked at one another and realised that their last quest as a team was winding down to an end.

* * *

**“What values do you live by? Your own? Those of people who matter to you? The values others say should matter to you?”**

**“Which perspective is the right one? Which choice is best? Which step can you make that will cause the least amount of damage?”**

**“It doesn’t matter.”**

**“Your intentions mean nothing. Your choices mean nothing. All that matters is the blood on your hands, the results, the fruits of your labor.”**

**“These are the things that remain. Intentions are as so much dust in the wind.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update!! My cat died, and then my younger stepbrother pissed on my computer. It was a series of rather unfortunate events. 
> 
> The next update should be quicker in coming if I don't get sidetracked by what was supposed to be a small, fun side project about Charley the plant from Ace Attorney. Let's just say it's at 6K and getting longer by the day. Please save me from myself.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this week's installment of "how many puns can I fit into this fic" aka this chapter's google doc's name is "Birding Bridges"

“I know a Greylag when I see one, Yosuke.”

“Sure, you know a _Domestic_ Greylag when you see one. If you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of the forest. You know, a place where domestic animals are kind of scarce.” Yosuke crossed his arms, walking backwards to face Souji.

Souji bet it would take less than three minutes for him to trip over something. They adjusted their grip on Izanagi’s lead before answering. “They’re still migratory and capable of breeding with wild fowl.”

“It was totally a Bar Headed Goose, and you know it. You just don’t want to admit that you’re wrong.”

“I conceded the possibility that you were correct,” Souji objected. “I just think that it looks more like a greylag.”

Yosuke squinted. “Saying ‘that’s one hypothesis’ isn’t conceding anything.”

“Like I said, it allows for the possibility that you’re right.”

Yosuke’s ears flicked back. “Bar Headed,” he said.

“Greylag,” Souji said, unwavering.

“You’re both wrong!” Teddie swung their arms into the air in their enthusiasm. “It was a bird!”

Humming, Souji nodded. “Good point, Teddie.”

“Hold it! You can’t just go along with Teddie like that,” Yosuke said. “They’ll never learn anything that way.” Making a sweeping gesture, Yosuke adjusted course to face Teddie more directly.

“There are different types of birds,” he explained. “Souji and I are just arguing about what type the one we saw actually was.”

“Why does that matter?” Teddie asked.

Souji cocked their head. “Taxonomy?” They ventured.

Yosuke snorted and shook his head. “Market prices, usually. There are a lot of people that claim down from one goose is more effective than another. Same thing with arrow fletching or cooking.”

There was a brief moment of silence as this new information was considered. Then, Souji smiled. “Ah, so that’s how you met living expenses.”

Yosuke squinted at them. “What did you think I did? I couldn’t exactly wander up to one of the Sanctuaries and ask for help.”

“I don’t know,” Souji mused. “I assumed that you did something ridiculous but profitable, like attaching wheels to tree stumps and selling them as rare conversation pieces.”

“Okay, first of all, you can’t excuse something that specific with ‘I don’t know’, and second of all,  because I refuse to believe you made that up, where the actual fuck did you see a tree stump with wheels?”

Souji made a vague gesture. “A market? Somewhere? Does it matter?”

Crossing his hands behind his head, Yosuke yawned. “Eh, probably not.” He paused. “I kind of want one now.”

“You want a mobile tree stump.” No inflection entered Souji’s voice.

“I can get you one, Yosuke,” Teddie announced. “I just need something sharp!”

“That’s alright, Ted,” Yosuke assured them, sounding as if he was on the edge of panic just considering it. “You’re not really trained to use sharp things.”

“Why would you want a mobile tree stump?” Souji asked. “What would you even do with it?”

Yosuke shrugged. “It’d get us to the next town faster than walking.”

Teddie deflated. “I’m beary sorry.”

“It’s not your fault you can’t balance on a horse,” Yosuke said, sounding like he didn’t mean it.

Souji gave him a sharp look. “No,” they enunciated, “it isn’t.”

Yosuke winced, chastened. If he thought he could get away with barbed comments about Teddie’s mobility when he was the one who had insisted on coming with Souji, he had another thing coming.

The sigh Teddie let out was so long and powerful that it seemed like it should have caused their suit to collapse in on itself. They looked as if they were about to say something, then straightened.

“Look!” Teddie exclaimed, pointing with all the force of an excited child upon first seeing a butterfly. “It’s your bird!”

Indeed, a goose with distinctive markings on its head and neck was investigating its surroundings in front of them, its features unmistakeable.

“What was that about Domestic Greylags not being found in forests?”

“This doesn’t mean the one we saw earlier wasn’t a Bar Headed Goose,” Yosuke grumbled. “It just means we’re closer to town now.”

Souji shrugged. “That’s good, then” they said. “I was getting a bit peckish.”

“Stop.”

“You don’t have to get into a fowl mood.”

“I’m going to start walking in the opposite direction in like three seconds.”

Teddie gasped. “No! We couldn’t bear it!”

I took less than a second for Yosuke to turn on his heel and start walking to the North-East. “Bye. It was nice knowing you.”

Teddie, used to the routine by now, was laughing as Souji stilled Izanagi, jogged after Yosuke, picked him off the ground for a second, and turned him so that he was facing the South-West once more.

Continuing to walk as if he hadn’t been interrupted, Yosuke ignored Souji and Izanagi’s presence beside him, and Teddie’s in front of him, for another five minutes.

“So, when are we gonna arrive at Okina?” He asked.

Souji squinted at the sky for a moment. The clouds to the east were still wispy, individual things that would destroy themselves after only a few minutes of rain, if they had it in mind to create a downpour.

“If we keep walking until just before it gets dark, we should arrive by mid-afternoon tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Yosuke’s ears flicked back, but he didn’t say anything more.

Souji appreciated it. They knew this pace wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could do.

The group walked on.

* * *

Towns tended to reflect their inhabitants in some way or another. Inaba had looked like a meeting, buildings clustered together as if discussing something secret. Okina, meanwhile, was a sprawl of interlocking architecture.

Bridges connected terraces, weaving above the main road like a second city built upon the first.  Luckily, they were high enough overhead that Izanagi could easily pass under them.

People milled about on both levels of the city, stopping to admire a merchant’s wares or to gaze at a patisserie shop in unabashed longing. Some eyed Teddie with bemusement— an understandable phenomenon even without considering the bear suit, as the way they pointed to nearly everything in excitement wasn’t exactly subtle— but most people went about their business as usual.

Where Inaba had felt like potential, like a sense that options existed, and roads could be chosen, Okina felt like action, like the moment that a blade had travelled too far through the air to be stilled.

Perhaps it was just the constant movement.

Turning their head, Souji caught Yosuke glancing about, hands beating a tattoo on his thighs. It was odd to see him without any of his more lupine features.

From Yosuke’s agitated movements, he felt rather odd about it as well.

“Are you going to be alright?” Souji whispered, pressing a hand to Yosuke’s shoulder.

Yosuke grimaced. “Yeah. I can hold form for a lot longer than this. It’s just, you know.” He made a vague hand gesture. “But, yeah I—”

“Careful,” Souji said, pulling Yosuke aside before he could run into one of the unlit lanterns that hung from the bridges. “That could get messy.”

Yoske sniffed. “Nah. They don’t use oil, I don’t think. Smells like lumoss.”

Souji closed their eyes for a moment. “I meant that you could break your nose and bleed everywhere, but thank you for the information.”

Looking between the two of them, Teddie made a concerned noise. “Cities are dangerous!” They squinted up at the lantern Yosuke had almost walked into as if it had insulted them by sheer virtue of existing.

“Yes, they are,” Souji agreed, “so stay close and don’t wander off.”

“Souji, no,” Yosuke said. “That doesn’t help.” He sighed. “Teddie, some things can be dangerous,  so you need to be careful.”

Teddie looked at him baffled. “So I stay close and I won’t wander off. Souji _just_ said that, Yosuke.”

Souji tried to keep their mouth from twitching into a smirk. “Yes, I _just_ said that, Yosuke,” they echoed.

“I’m going to leave you both in the middle of town,” Yosuke said, walking ahead.

“Try not to run into any lanterns.”

Yoske made an obscene gesture, prompting Souji to cover Teddie’s eyes. “Not in front of Teddie,” they scolded.

“Teddie doesn’t have any fingers! They can’t mimic me.”

“It’s still setting a bad example.”

Yosuke puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms for a long moment.

“Yosuke.”

Shaking his head and letting out a long breath, Yosuke smiled, a rueful quirk to his lips. “Sorry, Ted. Ignore what I did just now, okay? I was being rude.”

“It’s okay, Yosuke!” Teddie rocked back and forth. “You’re always rude!”

Souji snorted as Yosuke let out an indignant yelp.

“That’s not fair, Teddie,” Souji said, trying and failing to school their features. “I think I heard Yosuke say please just the other day.”

“You two are the ones being rude,” Yosuke said, pouting.

“Sorry, Yosuke,” Souji said, smiling at him. “We’ll try not to tease you too much. Isn’t that right, Teddie?”

“Yeah!”  Teddie punched the air in their enthusiasm.

Yosuke’s face softened at the sight. “Wonder why I doubt that.” He shook his head and laughed. “Whatever. Let’s get going, you hooligans.”

“Hooligans?” Souji questioned Yosuke, laughing. “What did we do to deserve that?”

Yosuke’s brow wrinkled for a second before smoothing out. “Disturbing the peace,” Yosuke said, straightening.

“You hauled dead cows onto a lawn and scared off townsfolk.”

“Okay, listen, no one complained when Mom did it.”

“There’s a difference between informing people that you are going to do something, asking for permission, and then executing the action in the manner agreed upon by both parties, and just deciding to drag a corpse onto a lawn and leave it for all and sundry to gawk at.” Souji turned to Teddie. “Remember that, for future reference.”

“Uh, Souji, I don’t know if I can,” Teddie said, swinging their arms at their side.

“You have to use smaller words with kids,” Yosuke pointed out.

“I’m not a kid! I’m Teddie!”

“Okay, you have to use smaller words with Teddie,” Yosuke said.

Souji remembered the way Nanako’s brow would wrinkle whenever they used a polysyllabic word and felt a pang of saudade. They would contact her and Dojima as soon as they arrived at an inn, they determined. “You’re right. Sorry, Teddie.”

There was a beat of silence.

“So, are you gonna explain? The wait is unbearable!” Teddie exclaimed.

“More bear puns,” Yosuke said. “Of course. There are always more puns. I’m never going to escape.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment.”

“Souji, no.”

Teddie waved their paws. “You still haven’t explained!”

Wincing, Souji brushed a hand through their hair, and immediately became sidetracked. It was getting a bit longer again. As much as Souji liked being able to tie their hair back, they were unsure if they wanted to endure the awkward drape of the transitory not-quite-long-not-quite-short phase growing it out would entail. It would probably be better to cut it back into a serviceable bowl cut for as long as they were travelling.

Wrenching themself back to the task at hand, Souji tried to translate their earlier lecture. “Whether something is a good or bad idea can be determin— can _change_ depending on whether or not other people have agreed that it’s okay. That’s what I meant, Teddie.”

Teddie stared at them for a moment. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Yosuke clasped a reassuring hand to Souji’s shoulder as they sighed. Izanagi, too, seemed sympathetic, nipping at Souji’s hair.

“Words are hard,” Yosuke said.

Closing their eyes for a moment, Souji let out a long breath. “Yeah. Words are hard.”

Souji assumed that would be the end of that conversation, and for a while all was quiet. The companionable silence of the group was only broken by the booming entreaties of a preacher on one of the bridges, pleading that they should vow ‘any number of things’. However, it was only a few more minutes before Yosuke posed another question to Teddie.

“Hey, Ted? You said you just know a bunch of things without knowing why, right? And you can hold conversations and stuff with us. I’m just wondering why you don’t, like, automatically know what Souji’s saying when they’re using hugeass words.”

Teddie seemed to consider it for a long moment. “I think I only know the things that I’m supposed to know,” they said.

“That doesn’t make any—” Yosuke cut himself off. Pursing his lips, he shook his head. “Whatever. Okay.”

Souji hummed. “You know, I have been considering a few theories.” They rested a hand flat against Izanagi’s neck. “Maybe Teddie made a Pact.”

The snort left Yosuke before Souji had even finished their sentence. “Souji, come on.”

“I know,” Souji defended. “Like I said, it’s just a theory.” They bit the inside of their cheek. “There’s no need to act that skeptical.”

Yosuke looked at them as if they’d suggested that Teddie would be perfectly fine making their own way to Fenneca. “Sure. I mean, no one’s been approached to make a Pact in three generations, but I know that if I were an all-fucking-powerful being of doom in need of a favor, the first person I’d talk to would be the talking bear suit.”

“You’re being sarcastic,” Souji said.

“Yes, I am.” Yosuke sighed. “Sorry. It’s just…” He struggled to find words. “Pacts rely on  Beneficiaries. That means that gods, or spirits, or something _really powerful_ has to need you enough to give you some of their power, right?” He crossed his arms behind his head. “I just don’t get what something like that would need from Teddie. War’s been over for almost a century, environment hasn’t gone to shit, and,” Yosuke gestured to the cathedral of bones that was visible in the distance, “everyone takes honoring the dead almost too seriously. Hell, it’s a surprise the generational magic hasn’t dissipated yet.”

Souji cocked their head. “I would agree with you if it weren’t for one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Yosuke asked.

Considering him, Souji noted that he didn’t seem exasperated with Souji; instead, he seemed curious, and a bit frustrated with himself.

Souji inclined their head. “The shadows.”

“You think they’re fucking with the set territories?” Yosuke’s brow wrinkled. “I can see that,” he said. “No sure why a Beneficiary would make a Pact with Teddie, though.”

Teddie, who had been quiet until now, straightened in indignation. “Hey!”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ted. Besides, it’d be weird to give them power and then take away all their memories.” The blood drained from Yosuke’s face. “Or their body. Holy shit. You don’t think…”

Teddie made a surprised yelping sound. “My body?” They patted themself down, as if they feared they had vanished without knowing.

“A Beneficiary wouldn’t take a Contractor’s body,” Souji said, their voice breaking a little. They cleared their throat. “No. No, you’re probably right. There are other theories to— Oh gods, what a pretty calico.”

A cat lounged on the steps of an imposing building just ahead. It was plump, fluffy, and Souji wanted nothing more than to say hello. “Gorgeous kitty!”

“You’re so weird,” Yosuke said, grinning. “Go say hi. I’ll keep these two in check.”

Souji looked at him for a long moment before clasping his hands. “You are a truly benevolent soul, and I will always and forever be your friend.” Then, Souji turned on their heel and near bounced over to greet the cat.

“You’re weird!” Yosuke called after them, a smile ringing in his voice.

“You’re one to talk!” Souji called back, not caring about the strange glances strangers shot them as a result.

* * *

It had taken a while to locate a suitable stable and inn, but Souji couldn’t complain. Staying alert was becoming too much of an effort for complaints to be a reasonable course of action. They blinked, slow and relieved, at the building before them.  

It was rather cosy looking, with a sign that proclaimed it to have ‘the softest pallets and firmest tofu” available.

True to its claim, the smell of frying vegetables and tofu wafted out of an open window. However, the smell wasn’t the only thing to escape.

The muffled sound of a stringed instrument being played, accompanied by a voice, filtered out into the street. Souji hummed in contemplation. The inn must have been hosting a bard.

Recalling something Yosuke had told them about preferring towns with bards, they looked back at him.

Yosuke’s face was lit up with anticipation, his smile too small for all the excitement he seemed to hold. It was as if, in that moment, he was full of too much light to afford to let any of it spill out.

Souji couldn’t help but stare.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t we going to go in?” Yosuke prompted, after a moment. “Do I have something nasty going on with my hair or something?”

Souji whipped around faster than a cat caught falling off of a chair. “Not at all,” they replied. “I was just making sure you and Teddie were alright to go in.”

“Ah. You can just ask, next time, you know,” Yosuke joked.

“Yes, affirmative,” Souji said, grateful for the heat of the day covering any flush they might have had. They had already embarrassed themself enough. “Well, I’ll just go about opening the door then.”

“Sure,” Yosuke said. His brow wrinkled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s just, I know you didn’t get as much sleep as Teddie and me last night.”

“I’m fine, Yosuke, I promise,” Souji said, and opened the door.

Unhindered, the music hit them like a battering ram. It was an odd juxtaposition to the content, as the song itself sounded like a lament.

It was just a very _loud_ lament.

“And they closed their eyes for the final time, friend’s shouts ling’ring in the air. Sealed with a memory, I relate to thee the last moment that they’d ever share,” the voice crooned.

Souji tuned out the voice for a moment in order to take in their surroundings. The inn’s ground floor was nearly empty, with only a few patrons sitting at the tables. The bard sat near the fire, a mountain dulcimer in hand. Their brown hair was tied up in two tails that still fell past their shoulders. Just to the left, the proprietor of the in seemed to be watching over them fondly, even as they served food to the patrons.

Souji was about to move to inform the proprietor that they were in need of a room, when Yoske tugged at their sleeve.

“Souji,” he hissed, “that’s Risette! She rarely ever travels this far out. Oh gods, her repertoire is fucking amazing. Shit.”

“You keep track of the travelling patterns bards maintain?” Souji asked.

Yosuke flushed. “Just the really good ones.”

Souji cocked their head, considering. “Have you considered becoming a bard, yourself?”

If possible, Yosuke reddened further. “Well, I mean, there's kind of the..." He trailed off and gestured at himself. "Tagging thing," he mumbled.

“Ah,” Souji said, immediately repentant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“What?” Shaking his head, Yoske waved his hands. “Nah, you’re fine. It was a reasonable question.”

“Still—”

“No ‘stills’, Partner. I told you, it’s fine.” Then, after a moment, Yosuke grinned at them, a mischievous light coming to his eyes. “But if you want to make it up to me, you can organise the booking with the proprietor while I catch the end of this song.”

“Alright.”

“What? No.” Yosuke gaped at them. “You weren’t supposed to say yes!”

“Too bad, the deal’s been made. The contract is sealed, and you cannot renege on your vow, etcetera, etcetera. Go listen to the music,” Souji urged, pushing Yosuke forward.

“No?” Yosuke asked, more than said.

“Yes,” Souji countered. “Why don’t you go sit with him, Teddie?”

“Sure thing!” Teddie bounced. “I love music!”

“You love everything,” Yosuke grumbled as he took Teddie’s paw.  

He shot Souji a glare that promised revenge. “You can’t always use them to win arguments, you know.”

Souji shrugged, a content smile in place, and gestured for the two to start moving.

Sticking his tongue out at Souji, Yosuke turned and walked Teddie to a table close to the bard. As much as he tried to hide it, there was a certain levity to his bearing that meant he was overjoyed.

Souji had made the right decision.

They watched after their companions for a moment longer, then approached the proprietor, waiting until they had finished talking to another customer.

“Excuse me; I don’t mean to interrupt your work.”

The proprietor blinked at them myopically, eyes seeming unsure of whether they should squint or open wide.  “No trouble,” they said, after a moment. “Nothing doing for it. How can I help you?”

“My friends and I need a place to stay for the night. Would you happen to have an open room we could use?”

“Not sure about open. It’s best to keep doors closed, don’tcha know?” The proprietor laughed at their own joke. “Sorry, just a little humor. You looked like you could use it, all serious and solemn as you are.”

Souji tried to smile at them. It appeared to work, as the proprietor looked pleased.

“We have room for you, I’d wager. We have less than we might have had earlier on this month, mind you. My granddaughter popped up out of nowhere as she is wont to do— you know how bards and younger people are, being one and maybe two. Are you a bard?” They looked Souji up and down.

Souji, stunned at the sheer amount of words flowing out of the proprietor, could only shake their head.

“Thought not, but you can never be sure. No, I thought, they don’t have the grin for it. Then you slapped me with the smile you have hidden and I thought, well, we might have someone who can smile on command, so we might have a bard after all! Have to keep your face off and your mask on to perform properly. Have to face the music, as it were, and the people to.” They tutted.

“But it turns out you aren’t a bard after all, and all the better! Why, it’s shameful, that business they’re up to!”

“Bards?” Souji asked, bewildered. “But I thought that your granddaughter—”

“Oh, she is, and I’m proud of her! Runs in the family, you know. It might be the other side of the tree, but family is family as much by choice as blood. No, no, the bards have nothing to be ashamed of! It’s the fault of those— pardon my language, but it’s true— shitheels that have kicked them out of town! How is a storyteller meant to tell stories without a place to witness or tell them, I ask you. The world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, I say.”

“Bards are being kicked out of cities?” Souji asked, alarmed.

“Oh, just Fenneca, mind, but it’s still awful. I’m glad Rise got out when she did, bless her heart. We only heard the news a few days ago, and her face when we learnt that she couldn’t go back! Ah, but you had to have been there to know what I mean. She has such a temper sometimes.”

Souji had to keep from gaping. They had spoken to Yukiko, Chie, and Kanji only the day previous, and they had said nothing about the ejection of bards.

Souj resolved to contact them as soon as they reached their room.

“That sounds terrible,” Souji said. They paused. “I hate to interrupt, but will you need to register our stay?”

“Oh, just look at me chattering away as if it’ll do any good! You can’t solve the world’s problems by complaining, my father used to say.” The proprietor paused for effect. “Mind you, I disagree. What do you call a bard’s work but complaining until the world knows what’s wrong and what’s right, and a tune to sing the mending to, to boot! Still, words and action are two things, but words _and_ action are a real winner, you know. Let me get right on that. You’ll have your room in a jiffy!”

With that, the proprietor crossed the room to consult a massive scroll of vellum. It took them only a moment to toddle back. “What did you say your name was?”

“Seta. Souji Seta.”

“Ah, that should look pretty scrawled on a page!” The proprietor looked approving, and held out a fist. “Here’s your key; I can’t abide by the idea of holding you to talk with an old woman any longer when you have such lovely company to attend to.” She shook her head. “No, no. It just wouldn’t do. Go have your fun, and just let me know when you need anything to eat, or if you need to stay any longer than you planned.”

“Thank you,” Souji said, inclining their head.

“You’re welcome. Now shoo! Enjoy the music.”

Souji walked over to the table where Teddie and Yosuke sat, attempting to digest the massive amounts of information they had just received.

They slid into the seat next to Yosuke and received a quizzical look.

“Are you okay, Partner?”

“Yeah,” Souji said. “I was simply informed of some concerning events.”

Yosuke twisted in his seat. Beside him, Teddie tried to mimic the move and nearly fell over. After Souji and Yosuke had reached out to right them, Yosuke turned back to Souji.

“Like what?”

Souji hesitated. “It can wait until we retire for the night.”

Yosuke’s eyes narrowed. “We talked about Teddie in the middle of the street. We aren’t really being subtle, Souji.”

“This is different,” Souji hedged. “We need to talk to acquaintances about it.”

“Acquaintances? What—” Yosuke’s eyes widened in realization. “Okay. Okay, I got you.”

“I don’t,” Teddie said, staring down at the floor with uncharacteristic malaise.

Yosuke patted them on the back. “It’s okay, Ted. It’ll all make sense once we get to the room.”

At that moment, Souji could swear that they felt someone staring at them with frightening intensity. However, upon looking around, they could see no one looking at the group.

With a vague sense of unease, Souji fought to push it out of their mind. They could relax for one evening, they told themself. It would only be another hour or so, and then they could contact Yukiko, Kanji, and Chie.

They could relax, just this once.

 ****  


* * *

**“You had a plan, once.”**

**“I know this to be true. Everyone has a plan at some point, whether mortal, or spirit, or beast. They think of their plans and their dreams, and they know in their hearts that this idea is their best destiny, their only hope at surviving.”**

**“With sallow cheeks and sunken eyes they crawl, destroying themselves in their quest, their determination to achieve their ideals. They pay no mind to the cries of others, for they must climb over and under one another to reach their individual dreams.”**

**“Sometimes, the clawing and begging and crawling becomes too much, and the dream is forgotten. You sit, blank-eyes, staring into the distance.”**

**“What do you want? What did you plan?”**

**“Sometimes you reach what you had desired for so long, and it means nothing to you.”**

**“Is any of it what you really wanted?”**

**“You ask for so much and have the audacity to be disappointed when you receive the spoils.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, funny story: believe it or not, I had been planning to reference the tree stumps on wheels since maybe February because I Hate Them. I hate the tree stumps on wheels. They exist and I knew I had to put them in SR, so here they are, several months later.
> 
> Also, if you want a cheap and quick laugh, feel free to remember that I thought I would finish this fic before a year passed. Its first anniversary is in a few weeks. 
> 
> To be fair, if it had been written more quickly, I might have gone with my first outline, and Yosuke would be carrying around a Demon-spawn Frog From Hell, so. You win some, you lose some.
> 
> Happy Almost-Birthday, SR.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two types of bedtime stories: those that end, and those that don't.

No sooner had Yosuke entered the room than he had slumped, boneless, onto one of the provided pallets. All at once, the tension that seemed to define his every movement since the group had entered the city dissipated. There was an alarming pop, and then Yosuke was shifting, his tail forming as his ears and bones made the necessary adjustments.

“Wow, that was weird,” Yosuke said. “Felt like cracking a knuckle for a second. Must have been holding myself in a weird position or something.”

Standing at the door, Souji let concern smooth out of their features, and released an amused huff of air. Teddie stretched to see over their shoulder.

“You're not even going to attempt to act as if you're checking the repellant enchantments, are you?”

Yosuke grinned. “Nah. I've had fleas before, and I know how to deal. I'll live.” Even so, Souji saw the way he surreptitiously glanced around his pallet.

Souji arched an eyebrow before crossing to their pallet, making a show of examining the rune seared into it. “You might. I, however, have no desire to live with fleas as a result of your carelessness.”

“Yeah, right,” Yosuke said, snorting. “Nothing would dare attack your hair. It's too intimidating.”

“I've been told that my hair's pretty,” Souji defended.

“That's what I mean,” Yosuke said. “No way would anyone mess with hair that looks like it could be used as currency.”

Souji's brow wrinkled. “Thanks? I suppose.”

Yosuke reddened. “I'm never trying to give you a compliment ever again.”

“That really didn't seem like a compliment.”

“I lived in the forest for the past five years. Cut me some slack,” Yosuke said. “I'll get better.”

“Not if you refuse to give compliments out ever again,” Souji rebutted.

Teddie brightened, swinging their arms. “You can practice with me! I'm great at giving compliments.” They proceeded to demonstrate with much gesticulating. “Souji is super cool and nice! And you always want to help me learn, Yosuke, which means a lot! And I'm a beary good student!” They paused. “You have to remember to compliment yourself too!”

Yosuke's blush grew. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ted.” After a pause, he added. “Thank you.”

Teddie wagged their hand in front of them. "Now it's your turn, Yosuke!"

Yosuke blinked as if stunned, and appeared to fumble for a response. “Uh, you’re very good at compliments, Teddie.”

“I already used that one!” Teddie protested.

Souji started laughing, dispelling the ruse. “Yosuke, we’re joking. We know you can give out compliments when you want to.”

“I cannot!” Yosuke closed his mouth with a snap. “I mean… Okay, that’s not really what I meant to say. At all. I‘m just gonna...” He trailed off and turned so that his face was buried in his pallet.

“Okay,” Souji wheezed, “you do that,”

Teddie bounced in place. “You’re right, Souji! Now that you mention it, Yosuke gives out compliments a lot! He says clothes look nice on you, or that it’s amazing that I never run out of energy, or how it’s a miracle that I can talk more than anyone else even without a mouth, or—”

Yosuke let out a loud groan from his place on his pallet. “Please, Teddie,” he mumbled. “Please, just stop.”

Teddie leaned back, baffled. “But I’m saying _good things_.”

Souji hid their mouth behind their hand, recovering themself. “I know, Teddie. You did a good job. Yosuke just needs some rest.”

“Yosuke always needs rest,” Teddie grumbled.

Yosuke made an offended noise, not unlike a yip.

“Well, he’s kind of like a dog, Teddie. Dogs need more rest than humans do,” Souji said.

“I’m still human!” Yosuke objected.

“I know you are,” Souji said, “but you have to admit that you have very specific traits that are rather canine in nature.”

“Yosuke was human all day today, though,” Teddie said, bemused. “Why can’t he just do that all the time? Then he won’t be tired.”

“It was even more tiring for Yosuke to sustain his form like that,” Souji said. “He’s not used to it, and…” They trailed off, glancing at Yosuke in concern. Yosuke remained face down on his pallet. “Human bodies come with inconveniences,” Souji finished.

“Like what?”

Yosuke groaned. “Like having to endure binding hell all day, okay, Ted? Let’s leave it at that.”

Teddie nodded, although they still appeared a bit confused. “Okay, Yosuke.”

After scrutinizing both of their companions, Souji stood so that they were in front of the one window in the room.

As the sun sank lower and lower, drawing itself under the horizon line, the lumoss began to glow. Some of the plants were already bright in the shade of buildings; others, wound tightly around the bridge railings or nestled between eaves, formed strange patterns wherein one portion would be lit, only to stop upon turning at just the right angle to catch the last glimmers of sunlight.

The broken segments of light, scattered and strange and dispersed across the city, looked almost like stars caught awash and cast to the earth. It made Souji suddenly very aware of how much they missed Inaba.

“I’m going to use the scrying glass,” they said abruptly.

Yosuke yawned and stretched, his tail giving a halfhearted wave. “Sure thing. Just don’t expect me to stay awake if you start in on the bedtime stories.”

Souji shook their head. “Go ahead and sleep. You’re tired.”

“Nah. I have to say hi to Nanako, at least.”

Souji smiled at him, then ducked their head. “Fair enough,” they said, reaching for their bag.

It took only a moment to set things to rights, and then Nanako was beaming up at them from the glass’s surface. “Big sib!” Her image seemed to muddy for a second before stabilizing. “Look! Dad said we have to preserve parchment and stuff, so I never get to use it usually, but this was really important, and I drew you, and I knew I couldn’t mess up because we have to preserve parchment like I just told you! I was really careful, and I think I did well, and I hope you like it!”

Nanako pointed at a scrap of parchment she held up to the mirror, revealing a depiction of a humanoid figure with blobs around their feet. “That’s you, and the cats you liked best are down by your feet!” She frowned for a moment. “I mean, you probably can’t see them that well right now, but I worked really hard on them.”

Souji’s face felt like it would split with the force of their smile. “I’ll be sure to make up for it by seeing them up close as soon as I can.”

Nanako grinned. “I wanted to draw Yosuke and Teddie too, but you said they were secret.”

“Good job remembering, Nanako.”

“Aw! Nanako wanted to draw me,” Teddie said. “Did you hear that, Yosuke?”

“I heard, Teddie. We’re in the same room.”

Nanako strained her neck, as if she could will Yosuke and Teddie to come into view by just looking hard enough. “Hi!” She called.

Yosuke peeled himself off of his pallet and walked over to the scrying glass. “Hey, Nanako,” he greeted. “You doing okay?”

Nanako nodded. “Yep! I helped a cow give birth today!”

Souji let out a short bark of laughter at Yosuke’s expression, gaining a glare from him. “That’s great, Nanako,” Yosuke said. “Did you name the calf?”

“I named it Small!”

Souji pressed their lips together to stifle a laugh. “That’s a very appropriate name. Did you do anything else?”

Nanako shook her head. “Not really. Did you?”

Teddie perked up. “We did lots of things,” they said, puffing out impressively. “We walked around town, and we talked to people, and we got this nice room that isn’t in the forest, and I’m gonna sleep in an actual bedroom!”

“That’s right,” Souji said, “this will be your first time staying at an inn.”

“It’s really nice so far!” Teddie said.

Yosuke shrugged. “Depending on the inn, sometimes the forest is a better deal.”

Nanako shifted on the other side of the glass, looking down. “I’ve never been to either one.” Her brow wrinkled. “I mean, I’ve been to the forest! It’s right outside! I’ve never slept there, though.”

“I’ll tell you what, Nanako,” Yosuke said, “when we swing back around to Inaba, we’ll take you camping.”

Souji looked at him, an incredulous smile forming on their face. “Will we?”

Yosuke turned red. “I just meant— Okay, I just assumed—”

“Relax, Yosuke, I’m joking. Of course we can take Nanako camping. As long as she wants to, of course.”

Nanako bounced in place. “That sounds like fun!” Then, all at once, she grew somber. “But isn’t there a monster in the forest?”

“Don’t worry about that!’ Teddie bounced up and down, mirroring Nanako. “We’re gonna save the day, and then the forest will be the safest it’s ever been!”

“Yeah,” Yosuke agreed, “we’ll do our best to make sure you’re safe, Nanako.”

“So don’t worry,” Souji finished.

“Alright,” Nanako said, looking as if there was nothing she believed more. Then, she lifted her arm to her face, yawning into her elbow.

“You should get some sleep,” Souji said. “Do you want a story tonight?”

“I want the one about the flowers in the cave,” Nanako said.

Souji nodded, rubbing their chin. “I don’t know if I remember that one,” they said.

“Souji,” Nanako whined, “you told me it three days ago.”

“What?” Souji exclaimed, blinking in feigned shock. “I think you’ll have to jog my memory.”

“The child goes up to the mountain because they want to be stronger, but then they find a cave full of blue flowers, and they’re all talking and singing and stuff, but it’s so quiet that they can  barely hear it, and—”

“Oh! _That_ story,” Souji said, snapping their fingers. “I know _that_ story.”

“Souji!”

Souji smiled. “Sorry, Nanako. I’ll be serious.” They cleared their throat, causing Yosuke to wince. “Sorry. Once upon a time, there was a child who wanted nothing more than to be strong enough to protect their friends, so they left for the mountains to train. Their friends were very sad to see them go, but they didn’t let them see them cry. They were determined to be strong too, you see.

“The child climbed boulders and crossed rivers, crawled under brambles and up trees, and when they scraped their knee they didn’t cry at all.”

“Really?” Nanako asked, skeptical. “Even if it was bleeding?”

“Really. They thought they had to be strong enough to get through it, and so they bit their lip and charged on.”

Souji paused. “A little bit later, they saw their reflection in a stream. They were so dirty, and their hair was such a mess, that they almost laughed to think of what one of their friends might say. However, they refused to laugh. They had to be tougher than that. What if they gave something away in a fight? Broadcasting their emotions for everyone to see could be terrible.

“And so they kept everything bottled up inside, and refused to let it out. They had to be strong for their friends, and they would be. They would be strong.”

“That part always makes me sad,” Nanako said.

Souji smiled and inclined their head. It had been rather relatable when they first heard the story, they mused. “Eventually they came to a cave in the mountain. It was dark, and quiet, and seemed like a good place to explore. The child walked and walked, and began to spy blue flowers, denser and more populous the further they went.”

“Populous?”

“There were more of them as time went on,” Souji amended. “Eventually, they noticed that no matter how far they walked, they never seemed to reach the end. Wary, they turned back. However, it was then that they discovered something terrifying. The path they had taken was now blocked off by stone, as if it has never existed in the first place.

“They wanted to yell for help, but swallowed it down. They had to be strong. They sat down and thought, instead.”

“What did they think about?” Nanako asked.

“Oh, all sorts of things. They thought about the sky, and grass, and all the things aboveground. They thought about the blue flowers. They thought of ways they might get out of the cave. They thought that this was a real test of how strong they could be. They thought of their friends.”

“And that’s when they heard the flowers?”

“Yes, Nanako, that’s when they heard the flowers. Low, quiet voices all speaking at once. Some sang, some screamed, some cursed, and some sobbed. Some seemed to be doing two or three things at the same time.

“And the child thought this was unfair. What reason had the flowers to cry? They weren’t the lost ones.Then, the child grew angry at themself. What kind of protector were they if they judged something else for crying?

“Yet the cycle continued. The child thought that the flowers should be stronger, then grew angry at themself for thinking such things, then directed the anger at the flowers, which renewed their anger with themself. Soon, they were seething with rage, and could think of nothing else.”

“That’s when the flowers grew louder, and they recognized the voices. There was their sister’s sobbing after she had mistakenly stepped on a toad. There was a friend’s laughter at a silly joke told one afternoon. There was another friend’s bellowed concern after the child had nearly been burnt by picking up a metal poker.

“And all at once, the child was ashamed. They had been angry at their friends for doing the very things the child fought to preserve. What kind of protector were they if they thought so ill of their friends?

“They knew, then, that they were weak. They weren’t nearly as strong as their friends. And so they wept.

“They cried for a very long time, and it was only when they rubbed the tears away that they saw a new path had opened. Stumbling, they ran down this passage for what seemed like hours, only to tumble down at the mouth of the cave.”

“And when they looked up, their friends were there?”

“They were,” Souji confirmed. “And they started crying and laughing when they saw the child, and gave them the biggest hugs that have ever been given. It was then that the child knew that no matter how much they wanted to protect their friends, their friends also wanted to protect them. There was no such thing as infallible strength, for everyone is weak in some manner, but they would be strong for one another. They would help each other, together, and defend each other to the last.”

Nanako rubbed at her eyes. “I love that story,” she yawned.

“I know you do. Now get some rest, okay?”

“Okay. Night, Souji.”

“Goodnight, Nanako.”

Souji sat still for a second before rising. They then kneeled by Yosuke and shook his shoulder. “Hey, wake up. It’s time to check on Chie, Kanji, and Yukiko.”

“M’ up,” Yosuke said, yawning. He stretched. “D’ya know that you treat storytime way too seriously?” He asked. “Just sayin’, if I was in charge of bedtime, I’d use a bit more, I don’t know, ‘and he said,’ and ‘then she was like,’ and ‘then he figured out blah blah blah’.”

Souji shrugged, self conscious. “It’s what I’m used to, I guess.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing! Just different. It reminds me of how bards tell stories, actually, except they get paid.”

“Ah, that’s probably because a bard told me that story.” Souji paused, cocking their head. “They told me many stories, actually, but they told me that one more than any of the others, I think. It was odd because it wasn’t my favorite.”

“Might’ve been theirs, then.”

“Possibly. They liked stories with happy endings.”

Yosuke’s ears flicked in interest. “You didn’t?”

Souji shrugged. “I didn’t really think they were that realistic, to be honest.” They bent over to nudge Teddie into awareness. “Ignore that, it sounded far less dramatic in my head.”

Yosuke looked conflicted for a moment before shrugging. “Alright.”

After waking Teddie, it took only a moment to ready the glass. The image blurred for longer than usual, enough that Souji’s brows drew together in concern. After a moment, however, the image sharpened, revealing their friends.

They all looked pensive and hesitant. Kanji looked as if he wanted to stretch out a hand, then refrained at the last second. Chie was biting her lip. Yukiko’s face was blank, carefully devoid of all emotion. Souji only ever saw her face so expressionless when she was on the edge of intense distress.

All at once, Souji felt chilled to the bone. They clenched their fist, and moved it away from the mirror. As much as they wanted to break the connection, to never hear whatever unspeakable worry hovered over their friends, they couldn’t.

“Shit, Souji,” Kanji breathed after a moment. “I don’t know where to start.” He took a deep breath. “Fuck. Just, fuck.”

“What happened?” Souji asked.

“Gods’ scissors,” Kanji cursed. “Okay, first things first, Saori’s safe. We were pretty fucking worried for a bit when we couldn’t find her, but it turns out she left town a few weeks ago for that reunion in Tartarus. So, she’s fine. I don’t like to think of how she’ll react to this bullshit, but for now, fine.”

“Kanji, what happened?” Souji asked, hating themself for how relieved they felt that the closest thing they had to a real parent was safe when something was obviously wrong.

“Fuck, if we’d only known. It’s like they’re freezing the merchants out; we don’t get any information any more. We could’ve prevented this.”

“What happened?” Souji repeated, voice brittle and cold as ice.

Kanji winced. It was Yukiko, her face still blank, who handed down the blow. “Last night was the final warning for all bards, musicians, and distributors of public works deemed potentially slanderous to leave the city limits. All who remained this morning were found unconscious with odd bruises around their necks.” She closed her eyes for only a beat longer than what would have been natural. “I’m sorry, Souji. I’m so sorry.”

Souji was still for a moment. “Everyone in the Dolia district…” They trailed off in horror. That was their home.

Chie clenched her fist. “It’s a ghost town. Everyone’s gone; everyone. You can hear a pin drop from across the street.”

That wasn’t right. _That wasn’t right_. It was never quiet there, not even if you shut every door, every window. There was too much singing and talking for that, too much idle gossip, too much life for that.

“Chie,” Souji said, voice coming out all too quiet, “please.” Please say that you’re lying, that you’ve misunderstood, that this was all some cruel build up to you saying almost everyone had escaped in time, and that there was no need to worry, they tried to say.

Chie clenched and opened her fist, then shook her head, a brisk and furious reply.

“Okay,” Souji said. “Okay.” They nodded. “Okay. This is okay. Okay.” They kept nodding, unable to stop. “Okay, okay.”

“Souji,” Kanji said, pain raw on his face. “Souji, please.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m okay. Okay, I’m okay.”

Chie clenched her fist. “It’s _not_ okay, Souji,” She said. “We know it’s not, just… Gods above, you don’t have to be _okay_ with this. It’s your home, your _friends_.”

Souji bit the inside of their cheeks, trying to stop the swell of ‘Okays’ that begged for release because that was all they could say, all they could do to fix this. They began to stretch the fabric of their shirt in their hand, rubbing it in between their fingers in lieu of saying anything.

Souji felt a hand touch their shoulder and flinched away from the touch. “No,” they said, and it was a relief because it wasn’t a reassurance, but pain because it had hurt their friend to hear it, but pain because it wasn’t helping, but pain because what more could they do.

“Souji, do you need space?” Kanji asked.

“They need their friends,” Chie said.

Kanji nodded. “Yeah, and they have us. The thing is, I’m not really sweet on the idea of forcing them to interact when it’s gonna be hell for them.”

Souji nodded.

“Yes to space?” Yukiko confirmed.

Souji nodded. “Yes. Yes. Please. Sorry.” They winced.

“Hey, no problem,” Kanji said. “Just check in with us later, okay? We’re here for you, and we get it. Dolia was our place too.”

Okay,” Souji said, then winced. “Bye.”

“Goodnight, Souji,” Yukiko said.

“Sleep wel—” Chie winced. “Just try to get some sleep, okay? I mean, alright?”

“We’re here for you,” Kanji repeated.

They continued staring out of the glass, as if they could help by sheer force of will. Souji reached out and broke the connection.

Souji stood. “I, uh, I need…” They trailed off, gesturing uselessly.

“Souji, are you okay?” Teddie asked. “Do you need a bear hug?”

“No,” Souji snapped. Then, repentant, they bit their cheek. “No, no, sorry. I’m okay.”

“You’re really—” Yosue bit off the end of his sentence, grunting. “Okay, no. What do you need right now?”

“Space,” Souji said. “I need… there are people outside, and I can’t, and I need space and everything is happening and I don’t like it; I just really don’t like this.”

“Okay. I mean, alright,” Yosuke said. He crossed to the window and opened it. “Teddie, you and I are gonna go explore for a bit, okay?”

“But Souji needs us!”

“I know, Ted, but right now they need us to explore. There might be dangerous things out in the hall that we need to investigate.”

Teddie puffed up. “I’m not scared of them! They’ll have to get through me before they hurt anyone.”

“Exactly, Ted. They’ll be so scared of you that they might just run away as soon as they see you coming,” Yosuke said, leading Teddie out the door.

Teddie’s reply was cut off by the click of the latch as the door closed.

Finally, Souji was alone. They stood for a moment longer, just staring around the room, before they slumped onto their pallet. They wanted to go back to Inaba and hug Dojima and Nanako and never let go. They wanted to be back in Dolia, eating candied sweets with Yukiko and Chie and Kanji and ignoring the way Yukiko and Chie kept looking at each other when they thought no one was watching. They wanted to listen to one of Saori’s stories. They wished, and they prayed, and they wanted, and they knew that they couldn’t have everything, but why should that mean that they got nothing, nothing at all instead.

“I’m okay,” they said to the silent room. “It’ll be okay.” They scratched at a floorboard with their nail, and they wished they felt like crying, or screaming, or anything at all, anything but this dull ache of want, and this compulsion to make everything okay by wishing and praying and saying it was so.

* * *

When Souji woke up the next morning, the first thing they saw was a cobalt mound of fur right in front of their face. They held their breath for a second, then released it all at once. “Teddie?”

Teddie shifted so that they were facing Souji. “Hey, Souji,” they yawned.

“What are you doing?”

“Yos’ke and I looked all over for that stray cat last night to make you feel better, but we couldn’t find it, and so I said that he was fluffy and I was fuzzy, so being next to us would be like being with a cat anyway.” Teddie shrugged. “Yosuke said that was weird, and that I made no sense, but he helped me move the pallets anyway.”

Souji turned, and sure enough, Yosuke was splayed out on their other side just as Teddie had been. Together, the two had made something like walls on either side of Souji while they slept.

Smiling, Souji turned back to Teddie. “Thank you,” they said softly.

“We just want you to feel better,” Teddie said.

“I know you do.” Souji sighed, and sat up on their pallet. “Okay, up you go, Teddie. I have to get dressed for the day.”

Teddie eyed Souji for another few seconds, suspicion clear in their bearing.

“I’ll be fine, Teddie, I promise.”

Teddie sniffed, skeptical, but moved out of the way. Souji couldn’t blame them; they’d always been a bad liar.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, the first person to bring the subject up outside the room was not Yosuke, nor Teddie, nor even Souji. It was a complete stranger, who by all rights should not have known there was anything to bring up.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the stranger said, shaking their head as they slid a bowl of porridge to Souji.

It took Souji a moment to recognise them. “You’re the bard from last night,” Souji said. “Risette?”

The bard flinched. “I prefer Rise when I’m off duty.”

“Your set is always really good,” Yosuke blurted. Souji and Rise turned in tandem to look at him. He flushed. “I mean, it is. I just wanted to, uh, let you know.”

Rise smiled. “Thanks! It means a lot to hear that.”

Souji fiddled with their bowl, glancing up at Rise. “So, how long were you eavesdropping?”

All at once, Rise’s face grew serious. “I really am sorry. I can’t afford to just trust shifty-looking strangers to be harmless, especially if they keep making vague remarks about ‘friends’ and things they can’t say in public.” She paused. “ _Especially_ , especially if they’re sleeping in the same building as me. I don’t regret it, either. Dolia was my home, too. I needed to know.” She wilted.

“Shit. If I had stayed, I might be…” She trailed off. “I hope Kanami’s okay.”

“Probably not,” Souji said.

“What the actual fuck, Souji?” Yosuke asked, turning to them in shock.

“Souji!”

Rise didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned back, looking down at Souji from where she stood as if she were contemplating a story that had a disappointing plot twist. “You know, you don’t get rights to act like an asshole just because you’re hurting. You’re not the first and only person to lose something.”

Souji closed their eyes. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

“I’ll forgive you this once, I guess. You don’t seem like you make those kinds of remarks often, judging by the looks on your friends’ faces.”

“I try not to,” Souji agreed. “I apologize. I don’t feel much like myself today.”

Rise snorted. “Nice, you can join the Identity Crises Society I’ve been thinking of starting up. It’s very exclusive, but I think I can squeeze you three in.”

“What are the responsibilities of this society?” Yosuke asked, seeming to play along.

Rise brightened and tightened the cloth holding her hair back. “I’m glad you asked! Our first order of duty is simple: you’re going to tell me how your friends were so convinced they could have prevented the disaster with Dolia, then we’re going to figure out how we can use it to counteract whatever damage we can.”

There was a beat of silence. “That doesn’t seem to mesh with the name very well,” Yosuke said.

“Think of it as a multipronged approach,” Rise said, still smiling.

“You seem very confident that we know what we’re doing,” Souji said. “How can you be sure we aren’t just fumbling about and bluffing?”

“Firstly, if there is one thing I know as a bard,” Rise said, “it’s that fumbling around and bluffing can work wonders as long as you make it part of the show.” She shrugged. “Secondly, the lady in blue over there makes a very convincing argument.”

All at once, Souji, Teddie, and Yosuke turned to look where Rise was pointing.

“Oh no,” Souji said.

“You know her?” Yosuke asked.

“No,” Souji answered, still staring at the woman. She had pale hair, golden eyes, and was wearing an outfit the same terrifying, constant shade of blue as Professor Igor’s office. “But I’m pretty sure I know her employer.”

* * *

**“Who are you to ignore the warnings of those who would help you?”**

**“Who are you to ignore the warnings of those who would harm you?”**

**“Who are you to charge ahead, paying no mind to the words that fall upon your ears, that appear before your eyes, that scratch relentlessly at your skin?”**

**“Fortune is a wheel. All mortals rise and fall, and only the calls of those ahead can offer an idea of which direction it is turning. Those who do not heed the warnings fall off the wheel. “**

**“Do you think you are an exception?”**

**  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Souji Needs a Lawyer Probably (too bad my friends talked me out of making an Ace Attorney au set in the SR universe)

Souji could tell the exact moment that Yosuke noticed the woman’s eyes. Within an instant, he had stiffened like a cornered animal.

Moving without thinking, Souji placed a hand on his arm before standing up to block him from view. “It’s okay. Probably. Don’t overreact.”

“I’m not gonna wolf out,” Yosuke defended, voice low. Souji could feel him relax, if only by a small amount.

“It was a reasonable possibility.” Souji matched his pitch.

“Excuse me for freaking out at seeing bright gold eyes in the middle of a public area!”

“So you can see that colour?”

“Yes, Souji” Yosuke said, snorting. “It’s only the easiest fucking colour to see.”

“There’s no need to swear; I got the point.”

“Apparently not! Because you’re still acting like the shadow over there is some kind of…” Yosuke seemed to struggle to complete his thought. “Edible plant that I _told you_ tastes terrible! That you eat anyway and regret for a good three hours afterwards.”

“At some point you have to let that go.”

“I’ll let it go when you _stop doing it_.”

Rise looked between the two of them with an expression of disbelief. “Okay.” She dragged out the word. “Unlike a plant, though,” she scrutinized Souji while saying this, making them duck their head, “Margaret has ears, and can probably hear you two.”

The woman in question glanced over at them and inclined her head. Then, with the deliberate grace of someone determined not to expend any more or less energy than necessary, she lifted her hand in greeting.

“She doesn’t seem like a shadow,” Souji said, their brow furrowing.

“We’re going to die here,” Yosuke muttered. He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and held his elbow with the other. “We’re going to die right now, in this very spot, because you thought a shadow seemed less shadowy than usual.”

Teddie rocked back and forth beside Yosuke. “It’s okay, Yosuke! She smells different from a shadow!”

Rise whistled. “Can I interrupt for just one second?” Grinning at Souji, Yosuke, and Teddie, she held up one finger. “I figured I should let you know that I have no clue what a shadow is, so you’re being kind of rude and leaving me out. I have a few context clues, but not much, you know?” She held up a second finger. “Also, I talked with her for a good thirty minutes. She gave me some good advice, and I learnt a lot, so you probably stand to benefit from talking to her too.” Another finger went up. “Finally, I think you should know that I’m pretty used to figuring out who I need to steer clear of, since I make a living off of performing for strangers.”

Souji nodded. “Sorry. Shadows are beings that can take on the forms of other beings. They’re basically— well, we think they’re sentient impulses shaped by perception— and they have a tendency to attack humans, sometimes leading to the victim falling into a…” Souji trailed off. “Wait. Dolia. The bards in Dolia experienced symptoms that suggested they were attacked by shadows.”

Yosuke looked up at them, frowning. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Souji; it’s really…” Yosuke trailed off as well. “Wait. What the fuck?”

“You see it too, right?”

“Uh, no,” Rise responded. “Because you two didn’t even finish up the preliminary lesson.”

“That doesn’t make sense, partner. There would have to be enough shadows—”

“To wipe out an entire city district,” Souji finished, face drained of color.

“How can a massive concentration just spawn out of nowhere?” Yosuke asked.

“Why would they target the specific groups told to evacuate the city?” Souji countered.

“Well, we can assume that Yukiko’s shadow had a part in giving the order, right? That probably has something to do with it.”

“Which brings us right back to—”

“This is unbearable,” Teddie wailed. “Please explain what’s going on to me and Rise! You keep saying things that make no sense, and I can’t understand them, and I bearly have time to catch my breath, and I’m gonna start crying because I’m confused, and I want to know what you’re talking about, and Rise is confused too, and it’s not fair!”

“Oh, no, don’t cry, cutie-pie.” Rise patted Teddie’s head, rubbing behind their ear. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re going to explain soon.” She shot a glare at Yosuke and Souji, as if daring them to disagree.

Souji nodded. “Sorry. Right.” They took in a deep breath, trying to organize their thoughts. “The bards in Dolia all slipped into comas, acquiring bruises around their necks in the process. This leads us to believe the victims were attacked by shadows.”

“But every attack so far has been isolated,” Yosuke interjected. “It was more like a serial killing spree than a straight out massacre.” He winced. “Uh, shit. With less killing, I mean. No one’s dying. Well, unless they don’t get food or water, or aren’t put in stasis, or no one looks after— I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Rise stopped patting Teddie, and folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, so the shadows are acting out, and pretty conspicuously, too.” She huffed out a breath. “Gods, whoever’s doing this doesn’t have much sense of strategy, do they?”

“What do you mean?” Teddie asked, pouting at the sudden withdrawal of affection.

“The bards were attacked the night that they were told to clear out of town. That’s not exactly subtle.”

“Well, subtlety has never been Yukiko’s strong point,” Souji said.

Yosuke cringed in agreement. “And her shadow’s probably even worse.”

“Back up,” Rise said. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned this Yukiko.” Her eyes narrowed. “You do _not_ mean to say that Princess Yukiko is behind this.”

“Oh, she’s not. Her shadow is definitely involved, however,” Souji said, frowning into their fist. There was something amiss with the sudden shift in tactics. The replacement of Yukiko and Chie had been an ingenious move, and the eye color switch would necessitate adaptability and foresight. A sudden display of power that would cast suspicion on the royal family would ruin all that work.

Wouldn’t it?

“Hello, it's rude to ignore people! Especially people as cute as Teddie and me.” Rise grinned when Souji snapped to attention. “There you are! I was worried for a second. It’s not fun to get lost in your head for too long.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“I could tell! Your forehead went all scrunchy.” She nodded. “Okay, so you think Yukiko’s shadow is involved here. The question is, where did her shadow come from— no, scratch that— where did all these shadows come from? Who’s directing them? What do they stand to gain from controlling the royal family? I mean, aside from the obvious.”

“Maybe they want to start up the territory wars again?” Yosuke offered. “Drive up trade prices? Protest magic restrictions? Reinstitute mass contracts?”

Souji shook their head. “We can’t start making assumptions until we’ve gathered all the facts.”

“Territory wars?” Teddie cocked their head. “Contracts?”

Rise frowned. “They’re all plausible theories though. Plus, reviving the wars would probably lead to the others.”

“We can’t make assumptions _because_ they’re all plausible right now,” Souji pointed out. “We need more information.”

“What are territory wars?” Teddie asked.

Rise waved a hand. “Ah, you know, the Battle of The Ancients, the Felling. I have to sing the ballads like five times a month, so I just kind of lump them together usually. Sorry if I was confusing.”

Yosuke winced. “Sorry, Rise, but that explanation won’t really cut it with Teddie.”

“Why not?” Rise asked, tilting her head.

“Teddie isn’t exactly familiar with any of those wars. Or history in general, really.”

Rise blinked in the slow manner of a domestic cat confronted with an unexpected house guest. “Why’s that?” She slapped her hands together, seemingly struck with a new train of thought. “Do they have amnesia? Are they cursed?”

“Intriguing theories, to be sure,” a new voice added.

Rise turned to face the owner of the voice, brightening. “Oh, Margaret! I’m sorry; I meant to introduce these people to you, but then I got distracted.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Margaret said, smiling.  “In fact, I would have been amenable to you continuing, had we the time.” She turned her gaze to Souji. “Unfortunately, there is too much that needs to be said, and all too little time to say it.”

“You work for Professor Igor,” Souji said. It wasn’t a question.

Margaret smiled. “Is that what he calls himself nowadays? Interesting.” She sighed. “Times do change, don’t they?” There was a beat of silence before she chuckled. “Listen to me, speaking as if I’m ancient. Now’s not the time for such deceptions.”

“You give me the willies,” Teddie said.

Yosuke barked out a laugh, then clapped his hand to his mouth. “Oh my gods, Teddie,” he hissed, blushing. “You don’t say that to people.”

“Nonsense,” Margaret said, inclining her head. “If your conversational partner is overstepping a boundary, they should be made aware of such a faux pas.”

“You weren’t really doing anything, though,” Yosuke objected.

“I don’t know,” Souji said, shrugging. “She was replicating Professor Igor’s unnerving manner of speech, down to alluding to subject matters beyond our knowledge and phrasing things strangely for the sole purpose of making the speaker appear omniscient.”

“Oh, so she freaks you out too,” Yosuke said. He cocked his head. It was an odd sight without the usual flick of his ears and tail. “Why do Rise and I like her? I don’t like Professor Igor.”

Souji tilted their head, making an effort not to smile and tip their hand. “You have a weakness for wavy hair?” They ventured innocently.

Yosuke gaped at them, then pointed. “Bad! No! No, just… argh, no!”

“She is pretty,” Rise observed, nodding. “However, everyone at this table is pretty, and I managed to be mad at Souji only minutes ago, so aesthetic appreciation won’t cut it as an excuse.”

“I’m flattered,” Margaret said. “However, I think it likely has much more to do with… what was it you said? ‘Alluding to subject matters beyond your knowledge’?”

Souji considered, then nodded.

Teddie followed suit. “Yeah! I'm at edge of my bear, here!”

The group stared at them, expressions slack and uncomprehending. Little by little, Teddie began to deflate.

“Bear sounds like chair. It's, uh, it's a joke!”

Yosuke groaned, and Rise winced. Souji patted Teddie on the head.

“They can't all be winners. You'll do better next time.”

Teddie brightened. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Souji said.

Yosuke shook his head. “Couldn't you have encouraged him to try some other hobby? Like fishing, or carpenting?”

“I don't know,” Souji mused, “he might get _board_.”

Rise laughed, a shocked, cheerful exhalation, as Yosuke groaned.

“No, Partner, no.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think it _wood_ upset you,” Souji said.

Yosuke rested his forehead on the table. “Great. Thanks. I love to suffer like this.” He sighed.

Teddie clapped their paws together. “I’m just happy Souji’s acting like normal again!”

Souji stiffened a bit, then relaxed. Out of the corner of their eye, they could see Yosuke trying to be subtle about searching their expression.

For a moment, they thought of apologizing, ‘I’m sorry for worrying you’ ready to fall out of their mouth. Then they saw the sharp, knowing way that Margaret stared at them, and the earnest, perceptive cast to Rise’s expression. Souji reached out a hand to reassure Teddie with a small pat, then withdrew. They’d apologize later.

Souji took a deep breath, then looked at Margaret’s bangs in order to present the illusion that they were meeting her gaze. “You said that we had much to discuss?”

“Ah, yes.” Margaret shook her head. “You have an unfortunate habit of trying to take the most difficult path, you know. Not on purpose, mind you.” She motioned to a chair with a gesture that could only be interpreted as ‘may I?’

Souji nodded, and Margaret sat at the table, lounging as if it were a luxurious, cushioned thing, rather than an unforgiving slab of wood with legs.

Souji sat down as well, but did not relax. “I tend to prefer tactics that have the potential for the most gain.”

“And you have no fear of pyrrhic victories, I assume?”

“Some losses are warranted,” Souji said, “but it depends on the nature of them.”

Margaret’s eyes appeared to flash. “How long is the memory of mankind, and how far hath it come?” She shook her head. “I can tell that your ‘Professor’ Igor mentored you. Such a fan of sacrifices. So intent on the timing, the placement, the nature of it all.”

Beside Souji, Yosuke shifted his weight and tapped on the table, as if he wanted to interrupt. Souji shook their head, touching his elbow for a moment before withdrawing.

Yosuke sank into the table once more.

“You disagree? I was under the impression that you respected Professor Igor a great deal,” Souji said.

Margaret arched an eyebrow. “When did I give off the impression that I did not respect him?” She shook her head. “No, I can respect someone with every ounce of my being, but that does not necessitate agreeing with every view they may nurture.” She paused. “This is as true of my siblings as it is of me, if not more so. I ask that when you meet them, you not debate the merits of sacrifice. They don’t take kindly to the topic.”

Rise shot Margaret an odd glance, but said nothing. Souji made a mental note to discuss it with her later.

“So you feel that we will have cause to speak to your siblings?” Souji asked.

“Of course,” Margaret said, waving a hand. “You will have need of my services as well, I’m sure, but it is likely that you will cross their paths first.”

“Services?” Yosuke asked, bemused. “As what? A shadow impersonator?”

Souji hid a smile behind their hand. They couldn’t have expected Yosuke to stay quiet for long.

Margaret laughed. “No, I deal more with keeping records: registries and the like. Having only one Persona, you will not need my services, and I find myself at a loss while Seta is in this state.” She huffed out an exasperated breath, the first display of emotion beyond laconic nonchalance.

Souji and Yosuke stiffened as soon as she mentioned Personae. Teddie, however, bounced up and down. “Ooooh! You know about Personae too! Can you use them? Can I see?”

Margaret shook her head, an indulgent twist to her lips. “You knew of my employer, and that he is aware of Personae. Did you not think to connect these facts?”

“So you can’t use them?” Teddie looked at their feet, then shook their head. “It’s okay! I don’t have a Persona either!”

“I’m going to choose to believe one of you is only seconds away from explaining what I’m missing here,” Rise said.

Yosuke shrugged. “To be fair, we know jack shit about Personas-”

“Personae,” Margaret corrected.

“Right. Anyway. We know shit aside from that they’re apparently shadows with like, stained glass lampshades? Or something. Teddie gave us a weird analogy and we just kind of went with it.”

“Lampshades?” Rise blinked, bewildered. “Are you being confusing on purpose?”

“No! Not at all! I admire you a lot, so I wouldn’t— I mean, I like your music. Your repertoire is great! So i want to help.” Yosuke winced. “Not that I _wouldn’t_ want to help if you weren’t a great bard though. I’d want to help even if your music sucked. Which it doesn’t!” He groaned. “Okay, I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Souji patted Yosuke on the shoulder. “Take a deep breath.” They didn’t mention that Yosuke’s ears had moved, as if ready to shift, several times during his rambling. It didn’t seem like a fact that would improve his mood.

Yosuke buried his face in his hands. “Why couldn’t you explain it instead?”

“Aw, it’s okay,” Rise said, flashing a grin, “no need to get flustered. Everyone sticks their foot in their mouth sometimes.” She sobered. “Seriously though: an actual explanation would be appreciated.”

“Personae,” Margaret started, affecting a tone of voice that brooked no inattention, “are Contracts made manifest. They are the boundaries you set, powered by the emotions and impulses that drive you personally, and given further abilities by whichever Beneficiary most wants to capitalize on the deal. They are shadows bound to a cause and possessed by representative forces.” She clasped her hands together. “All it takes to become a Persona user is a contract between you, a Beneficiary, and your shadow, whether verbal or written.”

Her glance cut across the table, a beam of searing sunlight. “There are some exceptions, of course. Temporary contracts can be drawn between a Beneficiary and a Contractor without any input from the shadow. Those are temporary measures at best, however, and highly limited.”

She unclasped her hands to adjust her hair, if only for a moment. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

Rise whistled, drawn out and low. “Looks like I’m not the only one in over my head.” She patted Souji and Yosuke on the shoulders. “Good luck.”

Appearing as if he didn’t even register Rise’s statement, Yosuke shook his head. “Are you saying,” he said, voice weak, “that Soiji and I… Our emotions are being possessed by gods?”

Margaret blinked, startled. “Oh, no. Your Persona is currently engaged with Jiraiya. A powerful shapeshifter, to be sure, but nothing like a god.”

“Oh, well, that takes a load off,” Yosuke said, his voice cutting. “My shadow’s possessed by another shapeshif— wait just a second. I’m a shapeshifter! Can someone be dragged into a contract with me? Could I possess someone’s shadow by accident or something?”

“You’re not nearly powerful enough for that,” Margaret said, shaking her head.  “Besides, your ancestors were already bound to Jiraiya. That is why you could already shapeshift. Hence the easy contracting process.”

“Easy? _Easy_? Souji had to electrocute my shadow like thirty times!” Yosuke stiffened. “Wait. If Personas possess your shadow, and Souji can have multiple Personas…”

Souji shook their head. “No, Yosuke.” Their voice sounded much smaller than they had intended it to be. “‘This is transient, child,’ right?” They bit the inside of their cheek. “Izanagi’s rider said that.” They looked Margaret in the eye this time. “I only have a temporary contract, don’t I?”

Margaret stared them down for a moment, then nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

* * *

**“Memory is long, for you must remember pain to avoid it.”**

**“Memory is short, because remembering hurts.”**

**“Manufactured memories are better than real ones, for they carry the lesson without the pain.”**

**“Real memories are better than manufactured memories, as the pain gives the lesson more staying power.”**

**“Which of the prior statements are true?”**

**“Would you rather cause pain, or be forgotten?”**

**“Would you rather endure the pain, or forget?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and it only took us a year to get to the actual world building. Holy shit. 
> 
> The ways Personae work in SR are completely bound up in the way magic works in this world I've created, so don't worry, there's more information incoming and more subplots to be twisted. Also I have no clue how personae actually work in SMT/Persona because I've never had the opportunity to play an SMT game outside of Persona 3 and 4, so. There's that. 
> 
> Also, for anyone going, "Hey, Air, you seem to be incorporating a lot of P3 stuff into this," you're absolutely correct. P3 is completely canon in SR, and I have an outline for it. However, I don't know if I'll ever write that AU because, honestly, look how long this one is already. As for Arena and Ultimax, I have no clue because I have yet to play them. 
> 
> Anyway! I have fun things planned! Full steam ahead!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which theories are crafted and no one is subtle

Rather than retreat to the room Souji, Yosuke, and Teddie had rented, or venture into the area where Rise and her grandmother usually retired, the group stayed put.

To Souji’s chagrin, they had realized that they had already discussed an ever-increasing volume of sensitive topics. However, considering that Rise was a bard, and therefore familiar with eavesdropping as both an act and a lifestyle, they probably should have realised that she had taken precautions against it.

“Oh, I figured you wouldn’t want eavesdroppers, so I adjusted things a bit.” She waved her hand with practiced nonchalance. “I mean, if anyone can read lips in here, we’re a bit screwed, but otherwise…” She trailed off.

Margaret smiled into her cup. “Rise inherited a strong heart and a well-crafted Pact, and her power is rather flexible as a result.” She inclined her head towards Rise. “You placed our voices on another plane, then matched our range of hearing to it. A clever use of your Contract.”

Rise cocked her head, her hair swinging with the motion. “Kind of.” She bit her lip. “Most people talk in shades of blue, and they aren’t used to listening out for red voices, so I just switched us out. We could also switch to yellow, I guess. Yellow’s really, really high pitched, though, and I don’t like listening to it for that long.”

Souji nodded, considering. “So your ability is—”

“I can see sounds and mess with them,” Rise chirped. “It’s pretty useful in my line of work.” She sank into a chair, face falling. “Or at least, it was.”

Chewing on the inside of their cheek, Souji considered her for a moment. “Listen, I really am sorry about—”

“Oh, no, we can do apologies later. Frown off your face, you!” Rise stuck out her tongue and winked, recovering with such speed that it was impossible to tell whether she was feigning the former emotion or the latter. “For now, I need full context. I didn’t waste energy changing up your voices for nothing.” 

She tapped the table with a nearby chopstick as if she were about to conduct a choir, then brandished it at Souji like a sword. “From the top. No more jumping around with only a few bits of important information here and there.”

Yosuke sighed. “You better make yourself comfortable, then. It’s a long story.”

Margaret’s eyes gleamed. “All the better, then. I love a good story.”

“I thought you already knew everything,” Teddie exclaimed.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not entertaining to hear a retelling,” Margaret said, reclining in her chair.

Shaking their head, Souji sighed. It would be a long,  _ long _ day, apparently.

 

* * *

  
  


Souji kneaded at their eyes, at first to chase away their exhaustion, then because the odd blocky shapes that appeared as a result were bemusing. They stopped after a few moments, then took a draught from their tea.

Detailing their journey in its entirety had left their throat dry, and they had feared it might be impolite to interrupt the telling to sip at their drink. They had already made a bad enough first impression; it wouldn’t do to make it worse. 

Rise cocked her head. “Is that it?”

“That’s everything,” Yosuke confirmed. “I mean, we skipped over Teddie almost breaking my arm in the woods, and a bunch of pulling Souji away from stray cats, but we’ve basically covered everything important.”

“I never broke your arm!” Teddie protested. 

“I said almost, Teddie.”

Rise, ignoring their bickering, cocked her head. “Okay, but if that’s all of it, then things are just…” She trailed off, then narrowed her eyes. “That’s really weird. Things are  _ really _ weird.”

That seemed rather obvious, but different people had different ways of pulling facts together. 

“What do you mean?” Yosuke asked. 

Souji blinked at him. “Do you think shadows aren’t weird?” 

“No,” Yosuke said, then winced. “I mean, yes! Yes, they’re weird, but that’s not what I meant. Rise sounded like she was talking about something in particular…?” His words dropped into a question, his eyes darting towards Rise. 

“Yeah, he’s right.” She grinned, then sobered. “It’s just really odd. The whole,” she paused, considering, “dynamics? Yeah, the dynamics of it all don’t work.” She rapped her knuckles against the table, keeping a steady beat. 

“If the shadows of the princess and her guard are trying to maintain their covers until they can track down their counterparts— and we still don’t know why they want or need them, or why shadows induce comas in the first place— then why would Princess Yukiko’s shadow reveal her hand so soon? Why would she say, ‘everyone who can exercise any freedom of speech effectively needs to get out of this city,’ then immediately wipe out anyone who refused?” She stopped tapping on the table. “It makes no sense! It’s such an obvious evil overlord maneuver that even a children’s tale would be more believable. I could spin a story about mind control with more subtlety!”

Despite the reminder of what had been lost, Souji found themself smiling at Rise. It was so nostalgic to sit at a table with someone so emphatic about the way stories should be; the way the world should be; the rhyme and reason of it all. Bards, no matter how different in worldview, were the same in their firm belief that the world was made of stories, and stories, in turn,  were made of the world. 

It wasn’t until Souji noticed the odd looks from their companions that they realized that it was not the time for smiles. They drew their expression into something that they hoped appeared more suitable, then inclined their head. 

“You bring up an excellent point. From that angle, it makes no strategic sense for Yukiko’s shadow to have made such a move.” They paused. “However, that’s assuming that Yukiko is assigned the blame.”

Margaret’s lips quirked up. “An interesting observation.”

Yosuke frowned. “What do you mean? Of course Yukiko would be blamed; the entire royal family issued the proclamation, right?”

“Being an Act Concerning the Welfare of the Citizens of Fenneca as Proposed by the Noble House of Amagi,” Rise quoted, her face twisting as she quoted the words, her voice scathing. 

“I thought you weren’t in the city when it happened,” Teddie said.

“I keep in contact with some people. I wanted a break, but that didn’t mean…” She trailed off. “It meant what it meant. Not this.”

“And so does the proclamation,” Souji said, leaning forward. “But what would she have to gain?”

Yosuke squinted at them. “So we’re right back where we started…?”

“No, because now we have possibilities. The House of Amagi includes most anyone involved in matters of the state that are based in Fenneca, so it offers up a large amount of scapegoats.” Yosuke looked as if he was about to leap up from his seat in excitement. “Two rabbits, one snare! She can keep her hands clean while discrediting anyone who’d point a finger her way.”

“That actually makes sense,” Rise said, her voice just incredulous enough for Souji to wince in sympathy. 

“Aw, Yosuke! You’re helping!” Teddie said.

“Lay off,” Yosuke griped, grinning anyway. “You’re all jerks.”

Souji didn’t want to break the good natured exchange, colored as it was with triumph, with reality, but they had little choice. They hesitated, glancing between their companions. “I don’t relish in admitting it, but all of this amounts to a few possible theories. We have no way of knowing for sure whether or not they’re credible.”

“It’s still a step up from ‘well, gosh, we have no clue what happened here but it sure does look bad’,” Yosuke said.

“Thanks,” Rise drawled.

“No! I didn’t mean— Okay, that was a necessary step, but it was like a foundation, you know? And so we needed to build on it. Because foundations are, like, before buildings. You need one, and then the other, but it has to be in order, and yeah, I’m just gonna shut up now.” Yosuke buried his head in his hands. “Tell me when time-out’s over.”

Rise laughed. “You’re funny. Ridiculous, but funny.” 

Yosuke looked up, eyes wide, before beaming at Souji. “Did you hear that? I’m  _ funny _ ,” he said, delighted.

“Yeah! You and Teddie are great at keeping things from getting too heavy,” Rise continued.

Yosuke’s expression immediately fell. “I’m like Teddie?”

“Teddie’s cute,” Souji offered, then bit the inside of their cheek as they attempted to maintain their fixed expression. 

Teddie turned to Yosuke and made a low humming noise. “But could Yosuke ever be as cute as I am?” They shook their head, projecting waves of weary regret. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Now you’re just being mean!” Yosuke said.

Souji worked to withhold a sigh of relief, turning back to Rise and Margaret. They stiffened at the expressions on both of their faces. 

Margaret had mastered the art of looking amused without moving any facial feature whatsoever. Meanwhile, Rise winked, then shook her head.

Souji stared back down at the table. The wood grain had no ability to judge them.

“Anyway, we’ll probably get a better picture of how things are playing out once you contact your friends this evening; if we’re right about the blame shifting, it’s pretty likely that the Amagis will release a statement, so your friends will have more information than we do,” Rise said. She sucked in her cheeks, the puffed them out. “I mean it’ll be propaganda and lies, but the misdirection will give us a few answers.”

“Like who’s suspicious of Yukiko’s shadow,” Yosuke added.

“ _ If _ our theory is correct,” Souji cautioned. “And it might not be Yukiko’s shadow they’d be suspicious of. Chie’s shadow is also an issue.”

“Would Yukiko’s shadow even protect Chie’s shadow, though? Shadows are kind of murdery by default,” Yosuke said.

Teddie shook their head. “You told me Chie and Yukiko care about each other! If that’s their true feelings, their shadows won’t hurt each other.”

Rise hummed. “You say that, but people tend to care about themselves a lot, too. We tend to prioritize our own well being, us humans.” She paused. “Other sentient beings tend to do it too. I mean, that’s how the territory wars sprung up.” Tapping her fingers on the table, she cocked her head. “Taking that into consideration, shadows would want to protect the people they mirror, right? They’re the manifestations of your emotions, your impulses, whatever. Most people want to survive, but that isn’t manifested in shadows. Why should it be any different with your feelings towards other people?”

Margaret inclined her head. “Emotions and thoughts are complex things. Shadows are the ones least expressed, the ones bound tightest and left to fester in the darkness. They are beaten down and hungry. They desire an audience, a vent, a release. They desire either acceptance or cessation. You either provide them with understanding, or you are bound to a realm of unconsciousness, where they can do whatever they wish without your aid. All is possible in dreams, after all.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What does that mean?” Yosuke asked, baffled.

“They will not attack each other unless your friends secretly wish to harm one another,” Margaret said, sighing. “The only reason a shadow attacks their counterpart is out of desire for acceptance or fulfillment. If an accord is not reached, they consume you, and you are left dreaming of whatever impulse brought forth the shadow until you cease to be. They will not act on any emotion or thought that does not already exist.”

“So as long as Princess Yukiko and her guard don’t suddenly decide they hate each other, everything should be alright,” Rise translated. 

Yosuke’s expression contorted.

“Are you alright, Yosuke?” Souji asked, worried.

“Uh, just thinking about some things,” Yosuke said. “I’ll be alright.”

Souji made a doubtful noise. “Are you sure? You look as if you just bit into a lemon without removing the peel.”

“That was _ one time _ , and if you’re never going to let me live it down, then I’m going to start bringing up that one cat that liked me better,” Yosuke said.

“It just smelled the jerky in your pockets!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“I will because it’s  _ true _ .”

“Uh, hold up,” Rise interrupted. “Before we descend into… wherever that conversation was headed, can I ask you all one more thing?”

Yosuke and Souji exchanged sheepish glances. 

“Yes, feel free.”

“Sure thing.”

Rise sucked in her cheeks again. “Okay, so shadows are on the rise, and so are Contracts. We can assume the two are linked, so you’d think there’d be a need for more Contracts. After all, Yosuke got hooked up with a Beneficiary right away, even if his ancestors were already bound. Usually a Beneficiary wouldn’t be willing to redefine those terms so easily, right?”   
Yosuke huffed, presumably at the reiterated ‘easy’ implication, but nodded anyway.

“And Souji got a Beneficiary without even facing their shadow, so obviously their beneficiary was eager for a Contract.” Rise’s brow wrinkled. “So, why? Why do these powerful beings need the help of humans all of a sudden? There haven’t been any territory skirmishes in ages, treaties are holding strong, and our foreign relations are better than ever. The wars are over and done with, so why do the beneficiaries need Contractors now?”

Margaret’s eyes flashed. “You don’t build an army in the midst of a war, and you don’t build shelter when the storm’s already hit. You watch the clouds, and you prepare.” She shook her head. “The balance has been disturbed, and it feels like a deeper wound than any argument over which god or being controls which plot of land or which city. Something, someone, is preparing for something that will hurt more individuals than ever before.” Margaret looked at each of them in turn. “There is something coming, and the gods are scared.”

Margaret rose, and each member of the group was silent as they looked up at her. “I don’t know anything else,” she said. “I like to pretend I do; it may be infuriating, but I find it tends to reassure as well.” 

She began to walk away, then paused, and turned back. “Wait, I lied. I know two more things: one,” she raised a finger, “that the Beneficiaries are not responsible for the shadows, but are merely capitalising on them, and two,” she raised another, “you are capable of so much more than you know.” 

Souji thought that it strange that she did not say the second sentence as if it were a reassurance; rather, it had sounded like an apology. 

“Well,” Yosuke said, “that was… weird.”

“Pretty much everything’s weird right now,” Rise offered. “I say roll with it and move on. For now, we need to contact your friends.”

“So you’re officially on board? As team member, what,” Yosuke considered, “seven?”

“You honestly think I’m just going to sit here and hope that eventually you  _ might _ fix things so I can go back to the city and check up on Kanami? Yeah, right.” Rise shook her head. “I’m going to tell my grandmother that I’m going travelling, and then we’re going to go help Yukiko conquer her shadow, and then we’re going to find out how to wake everyone up.” 

Teddie cheered. “Woohoo! Rise’s gonna be super useful! Margaret said she’s strong and everything.”

“Are you saying we aren’t?” Yosuke joked.

Teddie sniffed. “Well, apparently  _ I  _ can break your arm.”

“ _ Almost _ ,” Yosuke objected.

Souji shook their head. “Welcome to the team, Rise.”

Grinning, Rise nodded at them. “Glad to be aboard.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Uh-oh,” Souji said, an hour later. 

“Oh no, no uh-ohs. Uh-ohs are bad,” Teddie muttered, worried.

“It’s probably fine, Teddie,” Yosuke said. “Right, partner?”

“Well,” Souji said, drawing out the word so it sounded unfamiliar in their mouth, “the glass isn’t connecting.”

“Which is bad,” Rise declared, sitting cross legged on the floor. 

“Maybe it’s just too early; they might be out or—”

“It’s connecting,” Souji said, releasing the breath they had been holding.

The light from the glass settled into a crisp image of a room, dimly illuminated, and empty but for one person. She had kind eyes, spectacles, and grey hair. 

“Oh, Souji, dear, I thought they’d be back before you called.” She tsked.  “I swear, you and Chie are the only impulse control those two have; I need to give my son a stern talking-to when he comes back, just running off like that. No tact at all.”

“Hello, Mrs. Tatsumi,” Souji greeted. “How have you been?”

“Ah, work well-loved is work well-done, and I do love what I do. Mind you, I would have far less grey in my hair if Kanji would just…” She sighed. “Well, you know how he is. He worked himself up and now he’s rushing around, yelling about town as if words can be swords.” Straightening, her eyes widened. “You don’t think he’ll grab an actual sword, do you?”

“No,” Souji answered honestly. Kanji was more one for bashing; his stabbing was limited to sewing implements. “Why is he yelling?”

“He always was far too honest for his own good, that boy,” Mrs. Tatsumi said, shaking her head in despair. “There is…” She hesitated. “There is a rumour going around the city, and the implications of it, are, well, ominous in light of this shadow business.”

“What implications?” Souji asked, alarmed.

“It’s being said that the Queen ordered the evacuation of the bards, and that she was the one who managed to put the Dolia district to sleep, and that the Princess tried and failed to discourage her. Moreover, it’s said that the Queen might be deemed unfit to rule, which would hasten the Princess’ coronation considerably,” Mrs. Tatsumi replied.

“They’re going to coronate a shadow,” Souji said, sitting back. 

Mrs. Tatsumi’s lips quirked into the slightest smile. “You know, that’s exactly what Kanji said before he began with all that yelling business.”

“He isn’t telling everyone that Yukiko’s an imposter, right?” Souji straightened. “He would be thrown in jail within moments!”

“My son knows better than  _ that _ , Souji.” 

Yosuke made a doubtful sound, prompting Souji to direct a glare at him. Holding his hands up, Yosuke gestured that he meant no harm. 

Souji squinted at him to make sure he recognised that they’d deal with him later before looking back at Mrs. Tatsumi.

Mrs. Tatsumi sighed. “He’s just implying things, and suggesting, and complaining; the problem is that he’s about as subtle as a bright red bull in the middle of an empty field. Chie and Yukiko are trying to go calm him down— in disguise, of course.”

Souji inclined their head. “Thank you for keeping us apprised, Mrs. Tatsumi.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. You always were so considerate, Souji. I’ll tell Kanji to scry back and apologize as soon as he gets home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tatsumi. Have a good day.”

“You as well, dear.”

Then the scrying glass went dark, and there was a long stretch of silence.

“Well, fuck,” Yosuke said.

 

* * *

  
  


**“If Fate is real, then I would like to rip the throat out of whomever spins its thread.”**

**“Whoever decided that this is my lot deserves to suffer for their cruelty.”**

**“Billions of lives have been woven in this manner, threads chosen with vindictive pleasure, with the Weaver of Fate plucking at them, glee in her eyes, as she chooses the sequence of sorrows unique to every individual.”**

**“And I, oh, I had to have the misfortune of thinking myself favoured, of thinking my tapestry would be free of all but the most benign threads of hurt until the world came crashing down, and I knew that I had been tricked.”**

**“Every agony felt at once is hell, but it is made all the worse when you don’t expect it.”**

**“The Weaver of Fate deserves to die, but I cannot kill them, and so the architect of my agony remains unpunished.”**

**“But I can punish their tools. I can tear down the loom. I can set fire to the threads. I can nip at their fingers, and make them bleed, and stain the world red.”**

**“And when my work is done, they will have nothing left to weave.”**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late!!! I was having Bad Brains, and then my computer died, and then there were college applications to fill out, and then there were more bad brains.
> 
> Anyway!! Here we are at Chapter 20!! It's a landmark!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which There Are Serious Miscommunication Issues

**Esse District, Fenneca**

 

Yukiko craned her neck in an attempt to see above the crush of people, searching for some glimpse of Kanji.

“There’s no sign of him,” she said, turning to Chie. “Well, there is in that the entire street’s in chaos, but if everything is a sign, then nothing is.”

“You give me a heart attack every time you do that,” Chie said, rubbing at her face.

Yukiko cocked her head. “I didn’t think I did anything unusual just now.”

“The sticking your head out and doing eye-catching things thing,” Chie said, glancing around the crowd. “It’s not really the best way to keep from getting caught.”

“It is the best way to spot someone else, though.” Yukiko pointed out. “Besides, we have glamours; no one’s going to recognize us with only a two second glimpse.”

“That’s not how it works, Yukiko,” Chie said, her head sweeping back and forth, watching the crowd. “It just makes our faces hard to remember. When they’re still looking at us, they— What?”

Yukiko couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just funny. For once, it’s the opposite way around.”

Yukiko could see the exact moment that Chie realized what she meant. “Oh, right,” Chie said, the words slow and enunciated. “You never remember faces.”

“It sure does make diplomacy fun,” Yukiko said. “A never-ending game of ‘Memorize Who Has Certain Pronounced Features So You Have Half a Chance at Identifying Them Later’.”

“Yukiko,” Chie started, the tone foreign and soft enough that Yukiko had to interrupt before Chie finished the thought.

“Anyway, there are a bunch of alternatives to popping my head out to look for Kanji that would be exponentially more hazardous.” She grinned. “For instance, I could set one of the waste sluices on fire.”

Chie looked at her, eyes wide in alarm.

“Oh, stop. I’m not actually going to do it. I just brought up the possibility for comparison’s sake.”

“I never know with you,” Chie sighed. That was one of the best and worst things about Chie; it felt like she never doubted for a second that Yukiko was fully capable of doing anything she set her mind to.

“I do pick my battles, you know.” Yukiko paused. “I don’t _like_ to, mind, but I do.”

Chie mumbled something indistinct, and Yukiko narrowed her eyes. “What did you—”

“This feels weird. I feel weird about this,” Chie said, looking around.

“What do you mean?” Yukiko asked.

Huffing out a breath, Chie lowered her voice. “I don’t know. It’s just— I know Kanji needs something to do. I know that we need something to do. Just sitting there and letting it all fester won’t work; it _can’t_ work. We can’t stay in one place with only a field trip to the abandoned emotional hell of the Dolia district every two days. We can’t do that.”

“But?” Yukiko prompted.

“But this is risky, Yukiko.” Chie scrubbed at her face. “I have no problem with risky, usually, but not—” She looked back at Yukiko, and Yukiko fought to look into her eyes. Fought not to wince at the brush of unfamiliar people rushing past.

“I just—” Chie’s mouth twisted. “I have to make sure you’re safe.”

There was a time where those words would have made Yukiko flush, back before she had realized what they really meant. Now she only felt some hollow, heavy thing grow in her stomach. “Loyal to your station, even off-duty,” she said, forcing a laugh. She dropped her eyes and moved to push through the crowd.

There was a long moment before Chie said anything more. “You know me,” Chie said, “loyalty is my middle name.”

“I thought it was— Kanji!”

“Okay, where in the world did you get that idea?”

“No,” Yukiko said, pointing, “I saw Kanji over there. He seems to be standing still for the moment.”

“Finally,” Chie said, sighing. “I’m glad he hasn’t gotten into any trouble. It’s not much fun playing guard when your charge keeps running off.”

Yukiko scrunched up her nose. “Now you sound like my old guards. You just need to start complaining about how that Satanoka kid should know better than to encourage me.”

“To be fair, I did eventually learn some good redirection tactics,” Chie said. “They could have stood to learn something from me.”

“Right,” Yukiko said, freezing slightly. “Right. Well, I’m going to just see what needs doing over there. Right.”

Chie reached out a hand and Yukiko moved away. “Yukiko, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Something could be wrong over there. I’m going to go check in with Kanji to make sure. It’s fine.”

“You do not seem _fine,_ Yukiko,” Chie said, her brow wrinkling. “You don’t have to bottle everything up, you know. I’m here for—”

“ _Don’t_ , Chie.” Yukiko took in a deep breath. “Let’s go check on Kanji.”

“I— Alright. Sure,” Chie said.

Yukiko bit the inside of her cheek as Chie fell into step behind her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for Chie to sound so hurt when she’d been the first to pull back. _She_ was the one who’d built walls between them, not Yukiko. She was the one who’d given them jagged edges so that they didn’t fit together anymore.

Yukiko was the one who had had to learn to stand alone.

Absorbed in her thoughts, Yukiko didn’t notice the child that almost barrelled into her side until it was too late. At the last moment, she was pulled out of the way.

She could feel Chie release a long, drawn out breath, pressed as she was against her. “That was close,” Chie said. “Kids never do look where they’re going, do they?”

Yukiko let a bark of a laugh escape. “We never did.” She tapped the arm Chie had wrapped around her. “I’m safe now, you know.”

Chie released her immediately, stepping back and almost bumping into someone in the process. “Right. Of course.”

Righting herself, Yukiko looked around. “Alright, now where is Kanji?” She asked, only for her breath to catch.

“Oh no.”

“Oh no? Why oh no?” Chie asked, craning her neck. “He’s just talking with that one person, right?”

“Chie, remember what I just said about having to memorise key features?”

“Yes,” Chie replied. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you know the person he’s talking to?”

“Unless there’s someone else who’s exactly that height with that shade of hair in the city, then Kanji’s talking to the heir to the Detecandian throne.”

“Shit,” Chie hissed before snapping to attention. “Okay, so, how likely is that? Comparatively speaking.”

“Have you seen anyone else with that colour of hair?”

“Point. Alright, so I’ll run the extraction. Piece of cake.” Chie took a deep breath and walked towards the two.

“Wait, Chie—” Yukiko called out just a moment too late, and Chie was swallowed by the crowd, only to reappear a moment later. “I could have helped.”

Yukiko scuffed at the ground with her shoe, frowning. She could have provided a distraction, or helped create a cover for Kanji’s quick disappearance. Maybe she’d be his adopted sister, and their aunt had fallen down a well, or their crops had fallen under the siege of  a swarm of giant beetles. Chie could be their concerned neighbor or childhood friend.

There were a thousand different ways Yukiko could have helped, and twice as many stories that she could think up on the spot. She just never had the chance to prove it.

She frowned at the figures in the distance and forced herself to consider the problem at hand. Before that moment, Kanji talking to people about the suspicious nature of the political situation hadn’t seemed like much of an issue. After all, there was no force on earth that could curb the mighty deluge of gossip. It was an unstoppable force upon which society depended.

However, things could go very badly if Kanji was implying things to someone who was residing inside the castle. Gossip around the town was one thing, and even then, the empty streets of Dolia served as a grim reminder of consequences, should it go too far. Gossip in the court led to unrest: to coffers being put away for the stockpile of weapons, to years of peace shattered with one misspoken phrase.

Yukiko bit down on her lip, hard. Things would be so much easier if everyone just understood exactly what everyone else meant whenever they spoke. No diplomacy, no ornamentation, no picking and choosing the exact right words, just raw, thrumming meaning and understanding.

Things would be so much simpler if operations like Chie’s extraction could be as simple as hoisting Kanji into the air and carting him back to the Tatsumis’, rather than depending on conversational finesse and distraction and fine manners that meant nothing more than a silent agreement that peace necessitated pretending that everything was fine all of the time, no matter how much insincerity Yukiko could feel dripping off of the, “Of course we’d be glad to assist you,” that fell from an ambassador’s mouth.

Chie had told her once— back before everything broke— that she found audiences between ambassadors unnerving, but she understood them. “I don’t like the way they play pretend,” she’d said. “I wish they’d be honest and just say what they want, how they feel, and why, but they never will.” Then she’d sighed and smiled at Yukiko. “I get why they do it, but I still can’t help but wish, y’know?”

Yukiko hadn’t been able to ask her the reason, too choked up with her own inability to see it. She didn’t know why all of it was necessary, all of the false saccharinity of it, but she had to perform to every expectation of it. Then there was Chie, who could be frank and honest and _Chie_ instead of some phantom of herself, yet Chie was the one who understood.

There were times when Yukiko thought that Chie would be a better ruler than she’d ever be. That if they’d switched places somewhere, some transfer of responsibilities and contracts and fates, Chie would never falter.

She was certainly fumbling enough with Kanji and his conversational companion, however. Then again, it was hard to anticipate any member of the court (aside from Yukiko) disguising themself and walking about the city, much less the heir of a neighboring country. However, Naoto Shirogane had always been as odd as a fire without ashes. Yukiko respected that about them. It made interactions and audiences much more interesting.

Unfortunately, the same traits that made court interactions fun were further complicating the great mess that Yukiko referred to as, “The Shadow Situation”. She hoped that if it all worked out, historians would keep the title. Maybe they would even ask her to provide input on the transcription. She’d have to ensure that they properly illuminated the pages with lots of complex, interesting designs with gaping mouths and glaring eyes, and—

Wow, Kanji was a very alarming shade of red. Yukiko hadn’t seen him blush that much in years.

Naoto had brought their hand to their mouth, their index finger resting on their fist, as was their habit when they were trying to make sense of something. That, alone, wouldn’t have boded well. Combined with the fact that Chie had adopted the ramrod military stiffness she fell back on whenever she was uncomfortable, it meant trouble.

Then, Naoto moved.

There was a beat between the moment Yukiko was staring at the group and the moment that she ran to them, propelled by the step Naoto took towards Chie.

“My sincerest apologies,” Yukiko lied, her mouth shaped by muscle memory, “but something requires our full attention as of this moment, and I fear I must deprive you of your companions.” She slipped her arm through the crook of Chie’s and tugged at the back of Kanji’s tunic.

“Hold on a second, Yu—”

“Kanji!” Chie hissed.

“Yui?” Kanji said, his voice pitching it into a question.

Yukiko hesitated, still ducking her head to escape Naoto’s gaze. “Kanji, can whatever it is wait? Your mother’s going to be worried.”

“Ma? What’s she worried about?” Kanji’s voice rose from bewildered to indignant within the space of a moment. “Are those punks still hanging around? I told them to step off and leave the shop alone.”

“Are local businesses often antagonised by delinquents in Fenneca?” Naoto asked. “I hadn’t heard of such troubles previously, I’m afraid.”

“Nah,” Kanji answered. “They’re just some powderkegs with too much time on their hands.”

“Kanji,” Chie said, the exasperation in her voice tempered by affection, “that’s what delinquents _are.”_

“In that case, nah, Fenneca’s fine. They just hang around Cuross— Sorry, the textile district— for some godsdamned reason.”

“That is unfortunate. You had best leave at once to attend to that, then.”

Yukiko felt Chie shift her weight beside her. It wasn’t too noticeable, the way that she released some of the tension she’d been carrying. The remaining stiffness, however, was hard to ignore. Something was still wrong.

“I’ll take my leave first, and allow you to go about your business. Good day, Tatsumi.” Naoto ducked their head, then turned to Chie. “Liuetenant.” They ducked their head again. Then, they turned to Yukiko, and bowed. “Princess.”

Yukiko felt a wash of cold overcome her, her expression freezing into a mask.

Naoto straightened, then tipped their hat. “I do hope you didn’t expect me to just ignore all of this. I will figure out what’s going on, eventually.”

“I would expect nothing less of you, Détea Shirogane,”  Yukiko said, enunciating the Detecandian title.

Naoto snorted, then looked surprised at themself. “That’s fair.” They shook their head. “I should know better than to give you openings. I’ve never been the best at recovering my suavity.”

“And you hide it so well,” Yukiko said, allowing herself a smile.

“Pretension comes with the occupation, I’m afraid,” Naoto said. “Although, I’m learning more and more about its hazards each day. For instance, if you would care to explain how you manage to be in two places at once—”

“You see, we _would_ ,” Chie exclaimed, talking with the frantic energy of Muku before a walk, “but we are very, very busy with the thing at Kanji’s house, which demands our full attention, and, would you look at the sun, it looks like we’re late!”

“I was unaware that delinquency runs on schedules.”

“Fennecian delinquents are very organised,” Yukiko said.

“They’re assholes is what they are,” Kanji interjected, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry, Naoto, looks like we should get going.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Good luck with your delinquents,” Naoto said, expression blank. Yukiko could swear there was a note of laughter buried in their voice.

Once they were out of earshot, Kanji turned to Yukiko. “What was that you called ‘em?”

“It’s a Detecandian title that’s equivalent of ‘heir to the throne’. It literally means ‘person who uncovers’.”

“Gods above, you made a pun. You made a _pun_ at the heir to Detecandia while we were _panicking_ and trying to escape; how are you even _real_?” Chie said, bringing her hands to her face. “Oh gods,” she said, her voice cracking a bit. “How are you real?”

“That’s Yukiko, alright,” Kanji said, laughing.

Chie still had her face buried in her hands, but she extricated one to point at Kanji. “And you! What were you doing talking to the heir to Detecandia?”

Kanji’s brow furrowed. “They asked me about what happened in Dolia,” he said, as if it were obvious. “They were investigating when we were nosing around the other day, apparently, and wanted to know what was going on.”

“And you just told them?” Chie asked.

“No!” Kanji puffed up, offended. “I know when to keep my trap shut, you know! I just said that we were good friends with some of the people that shacked up in Dolia, which we were.” He winced. “Are,” he corrected.

“And Naoto just let that go? That doesn’t sound like them,” Yukiko said.

“Nah, they were pretty insistent that you two looked just like the princess and one of her guards, which, yeah, but I know your glamours work, so I just kept denying shit.”

Chie sucked in her bottom lip. “How would Naoto have seen through the—” Her eyes slid to Yukiko. More importantly, they slid to what Yukiko was sure was her sheepish expression.

“Naoto’s faceblind, aren’t they.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Yukiko admitted. “Yes, they are.”

Chie closed her eyes. “Yep. Alright. Great. Perfect. Time to never leave Kanji’s house ever again.”

“Naoto seems nice, though. I’m sure they’ll understand if we explain the situation,” Kanji objected.

“Why is your type always reserved nerds who laugh at bad puns?” Chie asked.

Kanji mumbled something, and Chie stretched to cover his mouth.

“Anyway! Let’s get home before you two cause any international incidents. We should fill the others in on this mess,” Chie said, nodding to herself. Then, she was off, power walking with single-minded determination.

Yukiko laughed, but followed. Kanji, grumbling, did the same. Neither looked back.

 

* * *

 

  **“Do you ever feel regret coil in your gut? Resentment block your throat? Tears suffocating you in your frustration and self-pity?”**

 **“Do you feel them like a physical ache, weighing down, pressing,** **_hurting_ ** **?”**

**“They aren’t physical attacks. They aren’t real like hands are real, like swords are real. They are perceptions. Phantoms.Yet they hurt.”**

**“Isn’t that funny? Isn’t that obscene? How an idea, an** **_emotion_ ** **, can hurt you?”**

**“Imagine how the pain of it could fester, how the reality of it could fester, if given enough time.”**

**“I have endured this for long enough.”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... So Late. I'm so sorry. Life kind of hit me all at once. The next chapter will be out a lot sooner, hopefully.
> 
> Anyway, in other news:
> 
> 1) Yes, I did write out the grammar rules of an entire language just for this fic. Why? Who knows? Not me. Detecandian is a Verb-Subject-Object language that primarily uses past perfect tense instead of simple past tense. Just in case you were wondering. 
> 
> 2) Naoto's Here!!!
> 
> 3) I Hate Miscommunication and had to write an au of this chapter where Chie and Yukiko Just Talk Already to get through it

**Author's Note:**

> Tara has been beyond awesome, and has made a ton of art for SR since the beginning of this fic-- their work can be found at tarahana.tumblr.com and most of their SR art can be found at http://tarahana.tumblr.com/tagged/a_sword_refracts


End file.
